


Dusk and Dawn

by appending_fic



Series: Self Determination [2]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Mentor, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Eliminationalist Language, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fantastic Racism, Genocide, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Magic, Magic-Users, Manipulation, Multi, Nazis, Racism, Teenage Drama, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Transformation, Transphobia, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-06-26 09:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 68,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15660600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appending_fic/pseuds/appending_fic
Summary: With Bular out of the way, Jim expects his life to slow down. But between the emissary of a shadowy entity allied with the Janus Order, and the genocidal Order of Dawn, Jim has to unite friends, rivals, and enemies to save trollkind.





	1. Harbringer

**Glastonbury Tor, AD 517**

Avalon was engulfed by a storm whose violence had never before been seen. Lightning struck with such frequency that one could see as easily as if it were a clear and sunlit day. Unheeding of the danger, a woman stood at the very height of the hill. Her eyes, green as emeralds, were lit by the reflection of the endless lightning, face impassive as she stared across the fields stretched out beneath Avalon.

Her face was soaked by the driving rain.

Legend said the storm raged for three days, fueled by the Lady Morgana's unending fury.

\---

**The Present**

"Alright, Claire, your father and I are going to be back home by ten."

Claire waved at her mother. "Sure, mama."

"Keep an eye on your brother," her father added, and Claire resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Enrique, her _real_ brother, was allegedly in the safest place in the universe, cared for by goblins in the Nursery of the Darklands. Rico, the troll masquerading as her brother, didn't need watching, except to keep him out of her sock drawer (because troll ate _socks_ , ick). "And no boys."

"I _can_ have Mary and Darci over, right?"

"Yes, but _just them_. If I hear you were throwing a party-"

"I'll be grounded forever, yeah."

Claire didn't look away from her trigonometry homework as her parents stepped outside, chatting about the event they were going to, or as she heard the car start. Once the sound of the car had faded into the distance, though, Claire set her math book aside and pulled out a _different_ textbook.

"Really hitting the books, eh, _sis_?"

"We're _not_ siblings," Claire retorted as she scowled at the words on the page, and then, sighing, took out the _other_ textbook. Learning Trollspeak was an infuriating exercise, but she supposed it would come in handy for finding her way around the Darklands.

Her phone pinged; it was a message from Mary, consisting of a thumbs-up. Why the girl couldn't knock like a normal person, Claire didn't know.

'Door's unlocked', she responded, and a moment later, the front door swung open to admit Mary _and_ Darci. Darci flopped down onto the couch next to Claire, while Mary sat on the nearest chair.

"So, let's talk about your spellbook."

“It’s not a _spellbook_ ,” Claire retorted. “It’s an introductory text on magic.”

“And it’s gibberish,” Darci added, twisting her head around to peer at the pages.

“It’s Trollspeak. Not many flesh - humans - know it.” Rico hopped onto the back of the couch, looming over Darci, presumably in an attempt to freak her out. She stuck her tongue at him instead.

“No, Darci’s right; it _is_ gibberish. Shadow magic and light magic and blood and runes - I don’t get it.”

Rico snorted. “Well that’s cause you told me to get a school book. If I’d gotten a real spellbook out of the Janus Order library, you could be casting real spells already.”

“And how many times would I have almost killed somebody?” Claire demanded. “Running around using spells I know nothing about sounds like a great way to get in real trouble. So if you can just explain this light-shadow thing - is shadow magic evil?”

“Eh, not sure. Seen light and shadow mages do some of the same stuff, but shadow magic’s about...uh, emotions and stuff. If you’re tired, it might not work so well. If you’re mad or hyped, it works a lot better. Blood magic’s - well, closer to evil than other magic. You can make it more powerful with a sacrifice, so a lot of blood mages get dark _quick_. Rune magic - it’s what makes a lot of magical items. You put the right words out there and stuff happens.”

Darci nodded as Rico explained; Mary was on her phone five seconds in. Claire filed away the snippets about other magic away, but for now needed answers that would help her save her brother.

“You said I’d need shadow magic to get to the Darklands. Why couldn’t I use one of the other types?”

“It’s all about power, love. The power of light magic’s about the spell you use, and I’ve never heard of a spell to cross the Shadow Realm. You could do it with rune magic if you wanted to spend ten years reading books. And...well, I _guess_ you could use blood magic, if you had enough sacrifices.”

Mary glanced up from her phone, brow furrowed. “When you say ‘sacrifices’-“

Rico grinned at her. “It’s called blood magic for a reason.”

Mary shuddered and looked away. “That’s _gross_.”

“Yeah, it’s why I suggested shadow magic - besides, shadow magic’s supposed to be good for teleportation.”

“So what’s with the books, then? You said this Skrathun-“

“If I get it, we’re calling it the Shadowstaff,” Claire interrupted firmly.

“Right,” Darci agreed. “The Shadowstaff is this powerful artifact, so why can’t we just use it?”

“For the same reason I didn’t just have Rico get a spellbook. I am _not_ using an artifact I know nothing about to cast magic I don't know." Claire waved her hand at the magic book. "There's a chapter in here that I'm pretty certain is stories of people who messed up _bad_ with their magic, and when I'm trying to use that magic to travel to another dimension without losing important parts of my anatomy, I want to be sure I know what I'm doing."

" _I_ don't get why you're doing this instead of trying to get Jim Lake to open that bridge thing for you," Mary said, squinting at her phone. "His facebook says he's still single, and if you don't actually want to date him, I can still guarantee we can wrap him around your finger by the end of the semester."

"Ugh; I am not going to _seduce_ him. Besides, I'm pretty sure Toby's ready to take me apart if I even _look_ at Jim funny."

"Toby Domzalski?" Mary tapped at her phone. "I'd take that bullet for the team; given the way he was swinging around Bular's sword at the museum, he could bench-press me."

"Darci?" Claire shot Darci a wide-eyed look. "You wanna back me up here?"

Darci, flipping through the book on Trollspeak, shrugged. "Daddy says that sort of thing's a terrible idea. Anyway, I was backing Claire up, Mary, because I love her, but I was _not_ certain riding into the Darklands through the front door was a good idea. We're one step up with the 'learning incredibly dangerous magic' plan." She tilted her head, frowning at the book. "Trolls have a verb tense for 'something that was certain to happen prior to other events that negated their inevitability'. What does that even mean?"

"It means," Claire concluded, "that I need to bone up on my Trollspeak before I start trying to figure out spells."

" _Please_ don't tell me you called us over to quiz you on vocabulary," Mary whined.

"No, we're here to quiz Rico about the Darklands, so as many of us can survive them as possible." Mary glanced up from her phone and _turned off the display_.

"Well," she replied, "it's not manipulating boys with our feminine wiles, but worth a listen."

It was not a lecture that left Claire with confidence about their chances. Presuming they navigated the labyrinthine passages, evaded the Gumm Gumms, and found the Nursery, they still had to contend with the wildlife, which made the genocidal troll in charge of the place look like a baby bunny.

And on that note…

“No, I’m not going _with_ you,” Rico scoffed. “Gunmar catches _you_ , you get eaten. Gunmar catches _me_ , I get the Decimaar Blade.”

“Eaten or getting your head cut off, you’re still dead,” Darci said.

“Yeah, the Decimaar Blade isn’t for _killing_ people. Well, it _is_. But not _just_ for killing people. You think Gunmar got an army of fanatically loyal trolls because of his sparkling personality?”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say not.”

“Look, being a badass who killed the last chief only gets you so far. You need a way to keep people in check, and Gunmar’s is the Decimaar Blade. Anyone steps out of line, he uses it to force them back.”

Mary screwed up her face. "That better not mean what I think it means."

"Depends if you think it means he turns them into mindless puppets forever. Because if you do, it _does_."

"Ugh, that is the _creepiest_. Just kill people and make them zombies, already."

Rico glanced at Mary and slowly, like he was trying to avoid notice, backed away to put Claire between him and her. "...Yeah, well, maybe if he had a sword that did that, but all he's got is the Decimaar Blade, which turns people into mindless puppets forever."

"Okay, then how do we deal with that?" Mary sounded...intense, in a way Claire rarely heard from her, and when she glanced over, she saw Mary was leaning in, staring fixedly at Rico.

"Um." He scampered back another few inches, perching on the arm of the sofa. "Not really a thing you can 'deal with'; Gunmar gets you with the Decimaar Blade, you're _done_."

"That sounds fake," Mary retorted. "And exactly the sort of thing I'd tell people if I had a magic sword that made people do what I wanted them to - 'don't bother looking for a cure, because there isn't one'. Okay, new plan. You two can study the Darklands - _I'm_ gonna find out how to beat this creepy mind control sword thing."

"There _isn't_ a way to beat it!" Rico growled. "The only way to beat it is to _stay away from him_." He turned to Claire, crouching as he did so. "Promise me, kid, you're gonna stay away from him."

Claire shrugged. "I don't know. We don't know our way around; we could wander into his throne room or whatever trying to find Enrique."

Rico practically leapt at Claire, grabbing at her shirt, his eyes wide, wild. "You _can't_! _Promise me_!"

"Uh!" Claire pushed Rico onto the cushions, straightening out her shirt. "I _would_ if I had a way to navigate the place. Maybe someone with a _magical connection_ to my little brother we could use to, like, dowse for him?"

Rico's brow furrowed in confusion before he _glared_ at Claire. "This is _blackmail_!"

"Technically, it's extortion," Darci called from the far end of the couch, where she had been reading the Trollspeak book. "And I'm not sure guilt-tripping even qualifies as 'extortion'."

"I'm not feeling _guilty_!" Rico snapped. "I don't care if Claire gets herself mind-controlled or eaten! She isn't my _real_ sister."

"Yeah, love you too, _hermanito_ ," Claire retorted. "So, you coming, or not?"

"Yeah, fine. Might as well. Knowing my luck, you'd get yourselves eaten and Gunmar would get the wrong idea and think this whole thing was a botched assassination attempt."

"On _that_ note," Darci said, "why _aren't_ we making this a botched assassination attempt? I mean, not the botched part, obviously, but this guy _kidnapped your brother_ , Claire Bear. A guy does that to your people, you not only get them back, but you _also_ send a message in case anyone else gets bright ideas."

There was a moment of silence after that. Darci was a sweet girl - mostly. But she had also watched a _lot_ of true crime shows, and some of her ideas about appropriate behavior came from books she'd read about the mob.

"Yeah, good luck with _that_. There isn't a weapon anywhere that can kill Gunmar. Even Daylight, which was _made_ to kill trolls, can't do it."

"Then that'll be _my_ job," Darci said, turning a page in the Trollspeak book. 

"Wait what? You can't _kill_ Gunmar!"

"If it can bleed, it can die," Darci retorted.

"No, that's not what I - Claire!" Rico clambered along the back of the sofa to Claire's side. "You gotta listen to me - we _cannot_ do this! What I'm doing for you - it's not _really_ going against Gunmar. Saving _one_ kid from the Nursery - that's, well, frowned upon. But trying to _kill_ him? You think _you're_ gonna send a message? If Gunmar thinks some fleshbags are trying to kill him, he'll kill you, your families, your pets, the _changeling he replaced your brother with_..."

It was easy to dismiss Rico because of his size, but he was older than Claire, older than her _parents_ , and he knew how things worked in the Darklands. Trollhunters and other trolls had spent centuries trying to kill Gunmar, and none had succeeded. Claire didn't doubt his enemies had also included sorcerers with personal grudges.

She and her friends wouldn't stand a chance.

"Okay, here's the plan. We are _not_ looking for trouble. But Mary, look into what to do if we run into Gunmar and he tries that magic sword thing. And Darci, figure out if there's a way to hurt him, slow him down, whatever. We're not _trying_ to find him, but if it comes down to last-chance stuff - stuck in an arena alone with Gunmar - I want at least _one_ option. Rico, you are going to teach me everything you know about the Darklands, and get me a spellbook."

"Um." Rico gave Claire a wide, wavering smile, and she felt her stomach sink.

"What?"

"Look, I know I gave you the impression the Janus Order had like, real spellbooks lying around. But that might have been an...exaggeration. The only people in the Janus Order with that sort of thing are the like, _three_ changeling sorcerers. And I'm _not_ getting away with getting the books off of them."

Despite her protestations, Claire _had_ sort of wanted to try out a real spell. She was pretty sure _Jim_ had used magic in his fight against Bular, though he _clearly_ wouldn't share unless she went with Mary's original plan.

"Do you want me to ask Eli?"

Claire sighed. "No matter _how_ smart he is, there is _no_ way I'm casting a spell Eli Pepperjack got off the internet. We'll cross the 'actually casting magic' bridge when we get to it. Now, any other objections?"

"Are you still forcing me to go along despite my _many_ objections?"

"Think of it as a family outing."

\---

"Do you ever worry you might have peaked? Like, you've done the most important thing you'll ever do, and nothing's ever going to top it?"

Mr. Strickler gave Jim a gentle smile, tapping at the surface of his desk. "That is generally a concern held by people slightly older than sixteen, Young Atlas."

"Yeah, but…" Jim paused, struggling to explain his feeling of...disappointment following the defeat of Bular. The Trollhunter had been created to defeat Gunmar, and with any reasonable means of Gunmar escaping the Darklands gone, Jim was feeling at loose ends. Draal still showed up three times a week to train Jim, and Sunday night for dinner (Jim was still experimenting with the troll palate, but they liked bold, pungent flavors; he was trying to find a place he could buy durian).

But Jim was struggling to remember what he'd done with his free time before he'd become the Trollhunter. He was almost considering trying out for a sports team, if only for something to do on weekends.

"I did not mean to make light of your concerns. What you've done with your life - the sense of accomplishment you feel for any one feat - is meaningful, no matter how important others feel it is." He sighed. "But we have a tendency to look back on our pasts with fondness; comparing your future to what you remember of your past accomplishments will risk constant disappointment." Mr. Strickler reached out a hand, patting Jim's arm. "Look forward, Young Atlas, to the opportunities before you."

"And what if there aren't any?"

Mr. Strickler's gaze shifted down to his hands. "Few opportunities are handed to us, Jim. Especially at your age. My advice is to learn, and _seek_ the opportunities you will need in the future."

Jim wasn't certain about the quality of Mr. Strickler's advice, given that _he_ appeared to be waiting around for a single mother on doctor's hours to ask him out on a proper date, but it was at least something to think about as he left the school.

"Caw."

There was a crow perched on Jim's bike, utterly unremarkable compared to any other crow he'd seen around town. The only unusual thing about it was that Arcadia Oaks crows had a penchant for high places; finding one this close to the ground was...weird.

"Hey, I'm heading home, so I need you to get off my bike."

The crow twisted its head, eyes fixed on Jim, before it launched from his bike to the nearest tree. "Caw!"

There was a pair of crows perched on the streetlight nearest Jim's house when he got home. One of them was hopping between the light and pole, but Jim was pretty sure the other one was watching him.

He stared at the crow for a minute; it sort of looked like the one he'd seen at school, but Jim wasn't a birdwatcher and couldn't tell most crows apart.

And besides, the crow would have had to come straight here, and when he'd last seen it it'd looked like it was having fun hanging upside-down.

"You're not following me, are you?"

"Caw?"

"Yeah, that's stupid."

But it _did_ weigh on Jim's mind, which led him to ask Archimedes over dinner.

"You are not being stalked by crows," he said through a mouthful of spiced beef.

"Not crows, multiple, _one_ crow."

Archimedes paused, twisting his head around. "Well, that's ridiculous. You don't just send _one_ crow after someone. You get yourself a nice three, or seven, or thirteen, or summon a whole murder. Though _that_ you only do if you're _planning_ a murder, haha."

Jim's mom gave Archimedes a sharp look, and he huddled back down in on himself. "Anyway. One crow is a _lousy_ spy."

"Then maybe someone _is_ parking crows all around town to spy on me!"

"You," Archimedes lectured, waving a wing at Jim, "need to relax. The changelings may still have the Killahead Bridge, but without Bular, their forces are greatly reduced."

Sloane was of a different mind; jittery at the best of times, he was pacing in tight, irregular circles when Jim sought him out in his dreams. "Of _course_ the crow's following you! Changelings have this - this _bond_ with crows. Control them, see through their eyes, the whole thing. They're waiting, sure, but they’ve got to keep an eye on the Trollhunter.”

“So what do I do? Kill them?”

Sloane gave Jim a sharp glare. “Do you know what happens when you start killing crows? You make an enemy of their entire race. Stay out of sight, kid, and you’ll be fine.”

It was easier said than done, Jim discovered. There was definitely more than one crow following him, unless his pursuer was both a crow and a wizard.

After a day and a half, he was seriously considering asking Draal for help. He’d been riding through alleys to avoid any birds (the sight of _pigeons_ was starting to put him in edge), but would still always find a crow waiting wherever he emerged.

And he was certain the lead crow was just saying ‘caw’ instead of cawing.

So he was on edge, jumpy, but not, as it turned out on edge _enough_ , because he was running through basic drills in the backyard, certain he hadn’t seen any crows, when a voice cut through the night air.

“ _Slen Nahl Gron_!”

It was like a hand was clenched around Jim, holding his arms and legs in place while a crow (a crow- _shaped_ creature, Jim bet) settled on the laundry line.

“Jim Lake Jr. Not what I expected, to tell the truth, but what say did I have in the matter? None, that’s what.”

“Who...are...you?” It was possible to speak, but Jim’s words came slow and thick, barely understandable, though it didn’t seem to bother the crow.

“I have many names.” The crow paused, cocked their head, before letting out a croaking laugh. “That’s not true. My name is Raum, and I am your worst nightmare. I mean, not the one where you’ve got a final exam and you’re in your underwear. More like the one where a guy you’ve never met threatens you life.”

Jim snorted. “Already got one of those.”

“Gunmar? The Janus Order? They just want you dead because you’re _in the way_. Though to be fair, I don’t really have anything against you either.”

“Said you were going to kill-“

Raum waved a wing at Jim, like when Archimedes was talking and Jim tried to interrupt. “Oh, sure I am. Or, you know, _effect_ your death, destroy the Amulet of Daylight.” They paused. “You know, if _you_ agreed to destroy the Amulet of Daylight, I could swing it so you get off with only a light maiming.”

“Why? So Gunmar can come back?”

“Gunmar? I couldn’t care less about the Gumm Gumms. Just because both of us want you dead shouldn’t be taken as evidence we want all the same things.”

“What _do_ you want?”

“A lot of things I can’t have. But of the things I _can_ have: you and Merlin’s pet owl dead, and the Amulet of Daylight broken beyond repair.”

“Why are you even telling me all of this?”

Raum croaked. “Could be I have a sense of honor. Could be I want to watch you squirm, looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. Could be I wanted someone to talk to besides the Janus Order. Gunmar this, fleshbags that; they’re tremendously dull for a secret society of shapeshifters trying to bring about the end of the age of man.”

Jim, who had been straining to move since Raum appeared, twitched his hand, and the amulet leapt to his palm. “For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!”

But by the time the armor was in place, Raum was at roof level and accelerating. “Here’s a free piece of advice, Trollhunter! Making you praise Merlin for the right to join this fight should be a huge red flag!”

It was an unnerving encounter, to be sure. And it left Jim with a lot of questions.

But there were a few things he was pretty sure about.

One being that Raum was probably somebody’s familiar, like Archimedes. And whoever that was (though Jim had an idea), they were gunning for Jim as much as Gunmar was.

Well, he’d been worried about being bored.


	2. Two Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim needs Eli's help in tracking a suspicious character around town. The consequences of betraying the Janus Order.

**Berlin, AD 1943**

Angor Rot reached the building only as the flames were dying down. It was one of the Janus Order's boltholes, but he'd found himself forced to stand on the side of changelings, Gumm Gumms, even _humans_ , rather than do anything that might give his true enemy comfort.

He began to pick through the building, ostensibly for survivors, but as that was unlikely, actually for knowledge or artifacts that might have escaped the notice of the police when they'd ransacked the place. If they had only known the home contained undesirables (remembering that he had once casually called changelings 'impure' had grown to make Angor Rot ill with shame), and not that it held trolls, the police might not have been canny enough to identify artifacts that might yet be turned against the men who controlled this nation.

A whimper made Angor Rot pause while he rooted through the first floor. It had seemed to come from below, despite no evidence of a basement.

But clearly there was someone here - someone _alive_ , so Angor Rot began probing the floor. He had fought the Thule Society over the Breath-Sight Gem, which could identify any living creature nearby the bearer, but had destroyed it when the risk of them securing it had grown too great. Because as helpful as such magic would have been to Angor Rot, those who sought to eradicate inferior races like vermin would find it _much_ more helpful to their cause.

Still, Angor Rot was not unskilled, and eventually found the catch next to the fireplace that swung open a compartment built into the base of it. There was a human child, there, dark-haired, dark-skinned, hazel-eyed, though he only saw a glimpse of that shape, as her form had nearly shifted to that of a troll - short, slender-limbed, skin copper-red and eyes hazel, skin smooth, unridged, and horns barely nubs.

A changeling, then.

Angor Rot dropped to his knees and held out a hand, close enough to touch but not quite doing so.

"I am Angor Rot, whelp. Do you know who that is?"

"Eclipse Knight," the child whispered.

"Yes, my job is to protect trolls from all sorts of things. Monsters, monster hunters-"

"The Dawnbringer?"

Angor Rot could not help the snarl, though it made the child flinch back. Angor Rot stepped back, keeping one hand out, open, unarmed.

"Oh, child, I did not mean to frighten you. The Dawnbringer is a wicked creature, and I intend to kill him myself, someday. Now, child, what is your name?"

"...Kellor."

\---

**The present**

Eli awoke to two texts on his phone. The first was from Blinky; a quick scan failed to clarify the subject, so he checked the other, which was from Aaarrrgghh, and therefore shorter.

'Can't come to Trollmarket today. Not a mystery, Mulder. We can explain later.'

Blinky's text said much the same over three paragraphs, but _insisted_ Eli couldn't ask questions. If Aaarrrgghh hadn't promised it wasn't some big mystery, Blinky's instructions might have sent Eli into an investigative frenzy, intent on discovering the reason for his exclusion from Trollmarket (despite the fact he hadn't intended to visit tonight anyway).

It didn't stop him from wondering, though he was still occupied with detailing potential alien sightings around Arcadia. Occupied enough that on arriving at school he nearly ran into Jim Lake, who was leaning against Eli's locker. Which, despite the fact Eli had faced down one of the most dangerous trolls alive, was startling enough that Eli yelped and dropped his backpack.

"Sorry!" Eli squeaked.

Jim grinned and bent down to pick up Eli's backpack, handing it to him. "My fault. So, you got a few minutes?"

"For what?"

Jim leaned in and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. "Trollhunting business."

"Really?" Eli felt a surge of excitement in his chest. Of course, Jim _had_ told Eli he'd really helped with the fight against Bular, but Jim hadn't exactly gone out of his way to hang out with Eli since. So evidence that Jim at least valued Eli's expertise in dealing with creepers was heartening.

"Yeah. Draal said Blinky said you went through the whole school looking for changelings, and I need help with something like that."

"It's not like I found any changelings in the school," Eli protested, not mentioning Mr. Strickler, who he had no evidence actually was a changeling, and anyway, spent enough time alone with Jim to have killed him if he actually were working for Gunmar.

“Yeah, but you’ve got experience, and I need backup.”

“What about Toby?”

Jim gave Eli a careful once-over. “If you don’t want to do this, you can just say so. Just because you helped me once doesn’t mean-“

“No, I want to help!”

“Cool,” Jim replied with a quick smile. “Meet me at lunch and we’ll talk. Okay?”

“O - okay!”

Eli saw Steve Palchuk further down the hall, watching them. Feeling bold (Eli had stabbed a troll in the thigh with a poisoned dagger; he could handle a human bully), Eli stuck out his tongue at Steve, who scowled but didn’t make any move to stuff Eli into his locker.

Eli spent the next few hours distracted, preoccupied by Jim's mysterious mission. Worried that Jim had asked him just because Toby wasn't available, or because he needed someone expendable around. Worried this was busywork to make Eli feel included.

Worried they might get killed.

...Eli had never considered his creeper investigations might be dangerous, like _really_ dangerous. Not until Bular, when he'd faced down a creature who wanted him _dead_ (who would kill him just because he was in the way).

But backing down just because he might die seemed like an insult to Aaarrrgghh, who'd left Gunmar's service, even though it meant a death sentence if Gunmar ever found him. Letting down Blinky, whose own brother had _died_ in the fight against Gunmar.

So when Eli sat down with Jim at lunch, to say he had mixed feelings would be an understatement. Jim had...some fancy thing that outshone Eli's turkey sandwich. When Jim saw Eli examining his lunch, he grinned.

"You want to trade?"

"What? I-"

"It's fine," Jim replied, shoving his lunch over, and grabbing Eli's sandwich, apple, crackers. "I had some of it when I was working on it this morning. It's pretty good, I think."

"You _made_ this?" Eli took a bite, and the stuff was _good_. Ugh, it wasn't _fair_. Jim was athletic, smart, slayer of wicked trolls, and a great cook. Meanwhile, Eli was a nerd with passable reflexes and good googling skills.

"Yeah." Jim shrugged, like it wasn't amazing. Eli wanted to cry, a little.

"Well, it's good. Um. Thanks. So. What did you want?"

"What? Oh!" Jim shrugged again, smile weak, sheepish. "There's been a couple of new kids in school over the last week or so, and I've noticed one of them hanging out around the bridge - you know?"

Jim didn't need to explain; the door to Trollmarket, accessible only by Horngazel (Eli didn't know about Jim, but _Eli_ had one secreted away under the floorboards of his room, not trusting the key to the trolls' front door to a box that _obviously_ contained valuables), was far enough off the beaten path for pedestrians that loitering there was suspicious.

"You don't think-" Eli broke off, uncertain how to broach the first thought that had crossed his mind.

"Don't think what?"

"Um." Eli poked at his (Jim's) lunch, unwilling to look Jim in the eyes in case this made him angry. "Have you ever heard of the Order of Dawn?"

"Like Georg the Dawnbringer?"

Eli shuddered. "Yeah. Him."

Jim huffed. "No. But...someone told me he was possibly the worst Trollhunter ever."

"Yeah, he was. Blinky didn't tell me much, but there are books in his library-" Eli broke off. Stories of what the Order of Dawn had done to trolls - during World War II and beyond - had turned his stomach. "He believed _every_ troll deserved to die."

"And the Order of Dawn…"

"Thinks he had the right idea," Eli concluded.

"So you think they're _here_?"

"Maybe. Who else would be hanging around there?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe a changeling trying to sneak in or something." Jim slumped down a little, eyes half-lidded as if he were exhausted (and maybe he was - Eli didn't really know what it took to be a Trollhunter). "If it's these Dawn guys - ugh, what am I supposed to do about _people_?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean human people," Jim said into his arms. "With Bular, I know he was going to try to kill me, and I - I wasn't, like, _happy_ with it, but I could do it. But I can't just kill a-" He groaned, but didn't continue.

But he didn't need to. Eli wasn't certain he could kill another human, either. During the fight with Bular, he'd been panicked, nearly froze; he'd stabbed Bular only when he realized Toby was going to die otherwise, and even then, couldn't bring himself to stab the arteries in the leg that in a human would have been almost instantly fatal. 

"Maybe you don't need to. You just said they were hanging around; maybe it's nothing."

"Maybe." Even though he hadn't dismissed Eli out of hand, Jim didn't look convinced, and that put Eli on edge. Jim was the Trollhunter, so his instincts for danger were probably better than Eli's.

"Well, you could tell me who they are, to start."

"Kelly Amadi."

"Huh."

"What? I'm not imagining it."

"No, I didn't - I just, if we're talking _weird_ -"

"It wasn't _Aja Tarron_ ," Jim snapped, which made Eli laughed, even if he regretted it a moment later when Jim glowered at him.

"Sorry! I just - Aja's _weird_ , but no changeling or whatever would be _that bad_ at blending in. I think her brother said they were homeschooled."

"Wait, then who were you talking about?"

"Edgar Dickkopf."

Jim nodded. "Okay. I could see that. Except the person hanging around the bridge was Kelly Amadi - the red hair going, like, everywhere, is pretty distinctive."

Eli took a minute to consider that - if Jim _had_ caught sight of her hair, there were few other people it could be (unless one of the changelings in Arcadia were a Polymorph, capable of taking any form they chose). "So what's the plan?"

" _I_ don't know. I've never had to do this - investigative shit before. And I'm sort of trying to - _triangulate_ conflicting advice."

"So you _did_ ask Toby for help?"

"I - no. There's this owl, and, like, retired Trollhunters - I don't want to get into it."

Eli nodded, even though he had a _billion_ questions about that. Blinky had been clear that Trollhunting was a job for _life_ , so he was pretty sure 'retired' meant 'dead'. But necromancy aside, they had a mystery to solve.

"There's two - well, three - options, but one of them's more illegal than the others. I'm particular to staking out a key location, but we can also, like, follow her."

"Which one's the illegal one?"

"Digging through her trash."

Jim's face twisted in disgust. "Ew."

"That's why I said it wasn't the first choice!"

Jim huffed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to - do you mind following her? I want to know what she's _up to_. Especially if she turns out to be one of these Order of Dawn guys - if they're lurking around, we need to tell Draal."

Which is how Eli found himself crouched behind the bushes near the bike rack after school, waiting for Kelly Amadi to leave so they could follow her. Jim seemed distracted, glancing at the parking lot at irregular intervals. Eli checked once or twice, only seeing a few crows gathered around some scattered papers.

"Are you okay?"

"Hm?" Jim gave Eli a distracted smile before nodding. "Yeah, fine. Just...Trollhunter bullshit. Shh!"

Jim ducked down, Eli only a second slower, as Kelly Amadi walked from the school. Close to six feet tall, thick in a way that rumor said was born of her ability to lift serious weight in the gym, she was an imposing figure. She was _not_ , thankfully, the type to shove unsuspecting nerds into lockers.

She hopped onto her bike, and was off, moving with speed manageable presumably as a result of legs that could kick like a horse. Eli scrambled to follow Jim as he mounted his bike and pushed off in a single smooth motion.

If Eli had known he was going to trailing a suspect after school, he would have brought stakeout snacks, feeling that most intensely an hour and a half after school ended, when they were still following Kelly around town. There didn't seem to be a real pattern to her visits - she spent twenty minutes at the dentist, another thirty at the library, and was currently at the grocery.

"I don't want to be a downer, here, Jim, but there might be nothing going on."

Jim shook his head. "No. She's up to _something_. She was, like, _drawing_ the bridge when I saw her, kept walking around for like an hour while the sun set."

And while there was a perfectly reasonable, art-related explanation for that…

It was also what a person planning to attack a den of trolls might do, figuring out where the sun would be at any given time.

"Yeah, that's...maybe we should stake the place out."

"No. I want to see where she's going."

So when Kelly left the grocery, a bag settled on the back of her bike, the two of them followed. It took ten minutes to realize she was heading out of town, but Jim seemed committed, and Eli wasn't about to leave him alone, even as they climbed the roads outside of town, into the mountains, a little closer to where the stalkling had nearly killed Eli than he was comfortable with.

Kelly took a turn that took her from view for a moment; Eli sped up, taking the lead as they rounded the corner.

Something swung at Eli - or, rather, about three inches above his head. Eli skidded, bike tumbling and sending him to the ground in a tangle with a jarring impact. Kelly, holding a four-foot pole with markings suggesting it was telescoping, explaining how she'd concealed it, swung at Jim as he approached, but his reflexes were superior to Eli's, as he shoved his bike away and landed on his feet as he ducked the swing.

"For the glory-" He hopped back to avoid another swing of the rod. "For the glory of-" She stabbed at his stomach, forcing Jim to roll back. "For the glory of Mer- _oof_!" Eli winced as Jim fell to his knees. Then Kelly rounded on Eli; panicked, he hurled his backpack at her.

Kelly knocked the bag aside, ducked in and swept Eli’s legs, sending him to the ground. She stepped in, swinging the pole, only for it to collide with the gleaming sword that came with Jim’s armor.

“Trollhunter,” Kelly growled, hazel eyes flickering with an unearthly light.

“I’m getting tired of everyone knowing who I am,” Jim grunted, “when I don’t know who they are.” He shoved, sending Kelly stumbling back. “But it doesn’t matter: _whatever_ you’ve got planned for Heartstone Trollmarket, I’m going to stop you.”

“Wait.” Kelly let her pole drop, pointing downward, but still clearly in her hand. She narrowed her eyes at Jim. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t deny it; I’ve seen you spying around, and _whoever_ you are, I’m not going to let you hurt them!”

She tilted her head at Jim, frowning. “By ‘them’, you mean...the trolls, right?”

“Who else could I mean?”

Kelly tapped the end of the pole hard against the ground and spun in, retracting it into something that could fit in the palm of her hand. “A lot of things. But from my experience, when you give a human a sword and tell them to hunt bad trolls, they don’t worry all that much about what constitutes a ‘bad’ troll.” 

Her form shifted between one breath and the next; it wasn’t a dramatic change, skin only slightly redder than her human shape, nubby horns just visible through her still-wild hair, only the hint of fangs in her grin.

But she was clearly, unmistakably a troll.

Well.

A changeling.

“Who are you?” Jim demanded.

“The name my parents gave me is Kellor, and I am a squire within the Eclipse Knights."

"Are you Draal's squire? Is that what's going on in Trollmarket?"

Kellor flicked a glance at Eli, the hint of a frown on her face (wondering who this scrawny nerd was doing with the Trollhunter, Eli bet). "No. I have trained under the tutelage of Angor Rot for seventy years, and I have accompanied him here to Arcadia to investigate the threats Heartstone Trollmarket faces." She shook her head, and when she looked back at Jim, she was smiling, almost shyly, like when Aaarrrgghh met someone new. "It will be a pleasure to report to him Draal was correct - that the Trollhunter is not one of them."

\---

"Mr. Strickler?"

Strickler looked up from his grading; there was a young man at the door to his office. Rotund, pale, with messy dark hair, watery blue eyes, and the hints of a mustache where he hadn't shaven in several days, the figure was one Strickler had not seen in over a century.

After all, the form of a changeling only started out looking like their familiar. In time, they grew, and their appearance changed.

"Mister...Dickkopf."

"Yes. I was wondering if I could speak to you."

"Oh, certainly." The boy, Edgar, closed the office door, and, presumably thinking he was being subtle, locked it. "Now-"

Edgar turned, form stretching upward and out as he grew teeth fangs, a fearsome trollish form Strickler was certain was not his true one.

Strickler fired the crossbow he'd kept primed all day at the monster in his office; the bolt slammed next to his foot, but it was enough to make him stop.

"If you persist in this, Otto, the next shot will not be a warning."

The monster drew back, standing in a hulking, almost _sulky_ manner, before shifting to the form of Otto Scarbach, Grand Commandant of the Janus Order. "How did you know it was me?"

"A number of reasons I do not intend to explain," Strickler responded, "given how you intend to kill me."

"You betrayed the Order, Stricklander!"

"Then you should have sent an assassin. Instead you spent a retrieval specialist in a form that's already been compromised. You could have used Serren - his cover as an educational consultant would have allowed him to get close to me without arousing suspicion. Or Min - her talent for stealth and patience would be an asset. But then, you never paid that much attention to the breadth of our network, did you?"

Otto scowled. "What is the point? When Gunmar returns-"

"A situation that looks less likely with every passing day. But let's not discuss politics. Let us discuss… _leverage_."

"Lever-" Otto took a step forward, growling, as his hands fisted at his sides. "Are you trying to threaten me?"

"Of course. I have nothing you want, so threats are the only currency I possess. And I know what you're about to say - how you have a vast network of agents at your disposal who could destroy me. And my response to this hypothetical threat is that I _know_. I understand _exactly_ to what degree our network spans the globe. No prime ministers or presidents, CEOs or bishops, but advisers, consultants, vice-presidents and specialists. I know the name, talents, and purpose of every changeling agent controlled by the Janus Order. And if I were to die…" Strickler shrugged. "That information could be shared with every major news outlet the humans _possess_. Almost every single member of the Order has spent a _lifetime_ perfecting an identity that is beyond suspicion." He gave Otto a quiet little smile. "And whether that network is preserved or utterly destroyed...is entirely up to you."

Otto stood quiet, glaring at Strickler, presumably considering whether the personal satisfaction of killing Strickler would be worth the consequences of exposing the entire Janus Order. Strickler didn't allow himself to smile, because it would unnecessarily provoke Otto. But to Otto, who wanted nothing more than to please Gunmar, prove his worth to him, there was no choice.

And indeed, after a minute, Otto looked away with a grunt. "...Fine. We will leave you alone, Stricklander. But if you get in our way again - _I make no promises_."

"I wouldn't trust it even if you did."

Otto turned and yanked Strickler's door open, remembering to take the form of a teenage boy only a second before it was too late, and then stormed out into the hall.

Strickler let out a quiet, relieved, breath once he was certain Otto was gone.

He wasn't certain what he would have done if Otto had called Strickler's bluff.


	3. Mountain's Peak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire decides to risk the trip to Gatto's Keep for the Shadowstaff.

**Tir Na Nog, AD 518**

The air in Creidhne's forge was smoky, but not the bitter smoke of a human smith's. It smelled of creation, a metallic tang of lightning and the greasy smell of magic. Creidhne was…well, a god, if such a word had meaning. He knew more about smithing than any living creature, _including_ Merlin, at least.

He did not come cheap, if he could be bought at all.

"What brings you to my forge, my child?"

Not his child, but enough of someone's to earn this audience, to kneel before him, the smith god, and beg a boon.

Morgana gripped her left hand, which held within it three stones of fantastic power.

"I wish you to make something for me."

\---

**The Present**

Standing at the Pepperjacks' front door, Darci took a deep breath to center herself, to make herself feel less skeevy about what she was about to do. She'd spent ten minutes explaining to Mary why she wasn't going to _burgle_ Eli's house, and another thirty why she wasn't going to _seduce_ him. The alternative, despite not explicitly taking advantage of a friend who was incredibly sweet and did not deserve that, didn't feel much better.

The fact that they weren't actually trying to hurt anyone in Trollmarket helped Darci's guilt a _little_ , but Eli always seemed concerned Darci talked to him just because she wanted something.

So she _knew_ her wave when he answered the door was a little tentative.

"Darci! Hi! What are you doing here?"

"Okay, I'm gonna be straight with you here - I need troll-related help."

Eli's eyes widened and face shifted into a grin. "Then you came to the right man, sister!"

...Okay, Eli was sweet, but he was a _complete_ dork.

He _was_ , however, hesitant on letting Darci borrow the horngazel.

"This is a key to the trolls' front door; I can't give it to just anyone."

"I'm not just _anyone_ , Eli."

"Yeah, but this is for Claire, isn't it? And _she_ was fighting Jim to keep the portal to the Darklands open." Eli leaned back in the chair next to his desk and nearly fell back onto the floor. Once he righted himself, he gave Darci a weak grin. "So…"

"Look," Darci sighed, kicking her foot against the baseboard next to Eli's desk, "Claire doesn't want to let Gunmar eat everyone or whatever. Okay, her brother's been kidnapped, replaced by this-"

"Changeling," Eli interrupted.

"Right. And the _first_ plan was to help lure Jim out to the Killahead Bridge and slip in and out while everyone else was fighting to the death."

Eli winced. "Sneaking into Trollmarket isn't a better idea. Aaarrrgghh won't let _me_ walk around on my own, and if they think you're there to make trouble, they'll send Angor Rot after you, and he is _not_ the forgiving type!" He leaned against the back of his chair, slumping a little. "I can't help you, Darci, even if it means we can't be friends anymore, because I c - care about you and don't want you to get hurt."

Oh, _fuck_. "Jeez, Eli, I'm not going to stop being your _friend_ over this." Darci did not, as a rule, hug boys, because most of them were weird and creepy, but decided the situation warranted it, so leaned down and tugged him in for a brief, slightly awkward hug, complete with back pat. His eyes were a little wet when she stood back up, but he didn't actually look like he was about to cry. "Claire's worked up about this and we're trying to help her. But I'm not going to lose another friend over this. And…" Darci stumbled a little when Eli ran into her, hugging with a force he probably considered 'bone-crushing', but was in fact merely 'noticeable'.

"Thank you," Eli muttered.

"Don't _worry_." Darci extricated herself and gave Eli a quick pat on his shoulder. "You don't know this yet, but the day you used me as cover to escape a creepy murderer or pedophile or murderer-pedophile was the day you received a friend for life."

"...What are you trying to do?"

"What?"

Eli was back to his computer, tapping at his keyboard, looking intently at the screen. "Look, if there's something in Trollmarket you need, Blinky can help me get it."

Knowing Claire _and_ Mary would hate her for doing so, Darci shook her head. "I told you I'm not going to stop being your friend or anything if you don't-"

"But this is important to Claire," Eli replied. "If I knew how to get my dad - I don't want you getting hurt over it."

"Well, we don't want anything out of Trollmarket. We want to get to the - Gyroscope?"

"Gyre."

"Gyre. So we can find Gatto's Keep."

Eli knocked his keyboard off the table, fumbled and missed it. When Darci looked to him, his eyes were wild.

"You can't go there! Almost everyone who goes there _dies_!" And then he paused, frowning. "Wait - Gatto's Keep? What are you trying to find?"

"The Skathe-Hrün."

"Oh." Eli settled, hands falling to his knees. "Yeah, that would make sense. If you want to try to get to the Darklands without using the Killahead Bridge. But you can't just go to Gatto's Keep on the off-chance it's there! No one's ever come back from that-"

"It's not just a rumor. We _know_ the Shathe-Hrün is in Gatto's Keep. But you don't have to help us sneak in-"

"I'll do it."

"Eli," Darci snapped, "You don't _have_ to!"

"I'm not the Trollhunter," Eli retorted, "and I'm not an Eclipse Knight. No one enlisted me to protect trolls from people, or people from trolls. But that doesn't mean I can't choose to help people who need it - fight bad people, whether they're trolls _or_ humans."

"Creeps like that weird dude _I_ saved you from."

"Yeah!" Eli declared. "The _Creepslayer_. So if you need help getting to Gatto's Keep...the Creepslayer's your man."

It took Claire one look at Eli to declare, "He is _not_ coming with us."

"Oh, come _on_." Mary pulled out her phone, shoved it at Claire as it played a clip of Eli, one arm limp at his side, stabbing Bular in the thigh. "Do you see this? Pepperjack has got _game_. If we get jumped by an evil troll, I'd prefer Lake over him _only_ because Lake's got that armor."

Eli's face flushed; Darci hid her grin behind a hand rather than embarrass him more. He'd feel worse, she suspected, if he heard some of the _other_ comments Mary had made about him and Darci.

"And he's not with Lake, not like Toby," Darci added. "Otherwise I wouldn't have suggested it. Besides, he won't give us the Horngazel, not when _one_ of us has a changeling spy for a little brother."

"He's _not_ my brother!" But Claire gave Eli a second look; he shifted under the focus of her gaze.

"At the same time, the only source of intelligence we've got about trolls is your _fake_ brother, so someone who's read basically _everything there is to know_ about trolls is a real asset."

Claire glared at Darci, but didn't offer further protest, which Darci counted as a win. So she spun to Eli and held out a hand. "Welcome to the team, Eli."

" _Temporarily_ ," Claire insisted.

Darci winked at Eli, who flushed, whether at her praise or the wink, she wasn't sure. But he produced the horngazel, a strange crystal with a point like a pencil, and led them to the bridge in the canals that held the door to Trollmarket.

"Now, we're going to need to be on guard. Angor Rot, the head of the Eclipse Knights, has been in Trollmarket the last couple of weeks, and he does _not_ like humans much."

"Racist much?" Mary asked.

Eli shot her a sharp glare, actually forcing her back with the intensity of it. "Angor Rot started the Eclipse Knights to protect innocent trolls from the crossfire of the human-troll wars...and the wars with the Gumm Gumms. And he saw humans do _terrible things_ to trolls."

He then stepped forward and drew an awkward arc along the surface of the rock wall under the bridge, opening a portal to a stairway spiraling down far beneath the earth. Claire glanced at Darci; she grabbed Mary's and Eli's hands, earning a startled glance from Eli. Darci jerked her head at Claire before dedicating herself to watching. They hadn't found any real spells, but Rico's book had suggested even a novice sorceress could accomplish shadow magic through force of will alone. Claire had spent some time practicing, with uneven results, but it was cool to watch her.

With hands pressed together, Claire began muttering to herself - not an incantation, Darci knew, but Claire trying to focus on what she wanted to do (although wasn't that what an incantation _was_?). It took a few moments before the shadows beneath the bridge seemed to lengthen, deepen. The scent of Mary's perfume began to fade, too, replaced by a faint earthy smell. Trolls had an excellent sense of smell, so merely making it harder to _see_ them would be a waste of time.

At last, Claire exhaled, a long breath out. "I don't know how long this will last, but it should make it hard to notice us."

" _Most_ of us," Mary retorted. "I can still smell Pepperjack's deodorant. Which, dude? Old Spice is not your scent."

It took only a sniff to confirm Mary was right, and that, furthermore, Eli was easier to see than any of the girls.

"Guess we're going to have to leave him behind," Claire said. "Because we are on a schedule."

They _were_ in a hurry, so Darci didn't have time to question Claire, but as they started down the stairs with the promise to rendezvous with Eli once they were done, she watched the other girl, trying to figure out if she'd deliberately excluded Eli from her magic or not. Shadow magic was based on focus, emotion, and energy - Claire might have excluded Eli from lack of energy, an inability to focus on him as a target, or even a subconscious desire to leave him behind.

But while they were cloaked in shadow, silence, and the scent of the earth around them, it wasn't smart to risk any noise or movement that might have stood out (or, for that matter, Old Spice, masked or not). So she moved quietly, even holding her breath when she was able, as they snuck their way through Trollmarket. Darci had to tug Mary and Claire along several times, each starstruck by the wonders of the settlement around them, including, once, out of the way of like six trolls.

And then there was the Gyre, hidden outside the boundaries of Trollmarket, which first required most of their effort to get it moving, and then-

Darci _liked_ roller coasters, like any self-respecting American teenager.

But the Gyre was something else. California to Argentina in less than a minute? Mary spent twice as long being sick next to the Gyre once they arrived, which gave Darci time to satisfy her curiosity.

"You didn't leave Eli behind on purpose, did you?"

"What?"

"Because he's really nice, and wants to help, and just because he was fighting with Jim back at the museum-"

"I didn't abandon Eli," Claire retorted. "I…" She bit her lip, a flicker of worry in her eyes. "I _tried_ to include him. You were right about him being useful. But it just didn't take. I don't know if I'm tired or what, but…" She shrugged.

"So!" Mary stepped up next to them, clapping them both on the shoulders. "Are we ready to enter Gatto's Keep?"

"I hope not," Claire muttered. "Gatto's Keep is-" A sharp grunt made her look up, letting out a startled squeak. Darci looked up as well, finding a spear pointed at her throat. Half a dozen trolls in heavy aprons and welding masks had slipped into the Gyre room while Claire and Darci had been talking.

"Hey!" Mary said. "We're here to talk to Gatto."

"Quiet!" one of the trolls snapped. "Intruders are to be taken to Gatto!"

"That's what I-"

"Silence!"

"Not really good at deviating from the script, right?" Mary muttered as the trolls urged them along a wide path that connected to a vast scaffolding. They climbed up along the scaffolding for some five minutes. Darci kept craning her head around to see what the trolls were building, but she'd never been good at magic eye puzzles or those weird face illusion pictures, so couldn't make it out.

"What are they building?" she asked as they turned what looked like a last corner, and then found the answer herself.

They weren't building anything. The scaffolding was to allow people smaller than a hundred feet tall access to Gatto - a troll the size of a mountain, with a mouth that could swallow Bular and half a dozen other trolls at once, head towering above them.

"Greetings, intruders," Gatto rumbled. "Whatever brought you to the mountain trolls' home, you will find your end as all others have - consumed to feed the king of mountain trolls!"

The trolls behind them poked at Darci with their spears, sending her stumbling forward. Claire caught her hand and glared at the servant trolls before stepping up.

"We came to make a deal with you, Gatto! We want the Skathe-Hrün!"

Gatto twisted his head around, squinting at them with eyes as tall as Darci. And after a moment of such examination, began laughing. "You come for Morgana's penultimate creation? Do you figure yourself a sorceress, fleshbag? Then you must prove yourself in the ancient tests of magic!"

"No one said there would be a test," Mary hissed, strain visible around her eyes.

"It's okay, I've got it." Claire looked up at Gatto, standing up straight. "What are the tests, Gatto?"

"A test of cunning. A test of perception. And a test of skill. Fail, and you will perish within my stomach. Succeed, and you may leave this place with the Skathe-Hrün."

"Very well, we accept."

"Good. For your test of cunning, each of you must answer one of my riddles." He swung to Mary, face twisting into a grim smile. "You, child, who fear tests, will be first. I am unquestionably yours, but it is others that use me most. What am I?"

Mary was shivering under the force of Gatto's gaze, silent for a long moment while Darci's mind raced. What was Mary's, that others used more than she did?

"Fifteen seconds."

"Mary!" Claire snapped. "You need to think!"

"No helping her!" Gatto roared.

But the exchange seemed to have startled Mary out of her stupor, as her eyes were closed, mouth moving as she tried to figure it out. Darci's mind wouldn't focus, but felt she had to say _something_.

"Mary…"

Mary's eyes snapped open at the sound, and she grinned.

"Five seconds."

"My name."

Gatto rumbled wordlessly. "Correct." He swung his gaze to Darci. "How can you stand behind your father when he is standing behind you?"

Darci had about twenty seconds, if she'd counted Mary's time correctly, time she needed to _think_. Standing _behind_ her father, she'd be behind his back, but then how could he stand behind her, then?

"Fifteen seconds."

Was it a weird magic thing? The Skathe-Hrün could make portals - but it hadn't been a weird magic thing for _Mary's_ riddle, and Gatto had been trying to stump her.

"Ten seconds."

A metaphor, maybe? Something about support, or having each other's backs? An idea danced at the edge of Darci's mind. If her dad were here, what would he do?

"Five seconds."

He'd say this whole deal was dirty, suggest shooting their way out, back-to-back like buddy cops-

"If we stand back to back!"

"Excellent," Gatto said, and then turned to Claire. "And at last you, little sorceress. This thing all things devours; birds, beasts, trees, flowers; gnaws iron, bites steel; grinds hard stones to meal; slays king, ruins town, and beats high mountain down."

Claire's eyes widened in shock. "You read - the answer is _time_!"

Gatto laughed. "Yes, that is the answer!"

"Where did you read 'The Hobbit'?"

"What, you think because I am a mountain, that I am stupid? Riddle games and tales of far-off lands are my entertainment - that and my little tests. Now, you have answered my riddles, and must face the next tests. You must enter Gatto's Keep and find the Skathe-Hrün."

"I was afraid of that," Claire muttered.

"What, why?" Mary demanded.

"Gatto's Keep is inside Gatto's stomach."

"Yes, sorceress." Gatto opened his mouth wide. "And all three of you must complete this test."

"Ugh," Mary grumbled. "I should have let Eli go instead of me."

"Well. Down the hatch." Mary yelped as Darci grabbed her arm, but joined in her jog towards the massive mouth after only one stumbled step. "Come on, nerd!" Darci shouted at Claire, before she jumped onto Gatto's tongue and began the long slide down into his stomach.

Which was...less gross than Darci had imagined, presumably because she didn't know more about troll biology. Pools of something that looked like lava but wasn't quite as hot, but was probably acidic, covered much of the floor. Piles of gems, gold, and strange artifacts, lay in areas protected, momentarily, from the lava pools.

"Oh...my...god."

Claire reached out and snagged Mary's arm before she could get too close to a display of jeweled necklaces. "Don't touch anything except the Shadowstaff. We don't know what's in here, or what anything in here can _do_. Not to mention people used to throw cursed objects in Gatto's Keep if they couldn't destroy them."

Mary yelped and scooted closer to Darci, as if Darci could physically protect her from curses. "So now what?"

"Now? We look." Claire pulled out a rough sketch of a smooth black object, like the handle to a lightsaber bracketed with dull crystal protrusion. "This is the Skathe-Hrün. There's a good chance it's hidden in a dark corner, but we'll run a simple grid search-"

"Guys? The weird lava-stuff is getting higher."

Darci looked down, where the pools were not noticeably higher, but given Mr. 'I eat everyone who comes here', she was not about to doubt Mary's assessment.

"Okay, you two look around, I'll see if I can work out some sort of search spell."

"Or use the force; now would be an excellent time to discover you're a Jedi."

Mary gave Darci a sharp glare. "Eli Pepperjack is a _terrible_ influence on you."

"What are you - _you're_ the one who made me watch Star Wars."

"Because Natalie Portman is hot! Not because I'm a _nerd_."

"Can the two of you _please_ try to find the Shadowstaff before we get dissolved in lava-acid? And maybe shut up so I can concentrate?"

"Fine." Darci pointed at the far end of the cavern. "I'll head over there. You look here."

" _Fine_ ," Mary agreed.

The fact that the laval _was_ rising set Darci to search frantically, but the glacial speed made that panic hard to maintain; after a few minutes, she found that panic fade to a straining tension, like the entire week before a paper she hadn't started was due. After knocking over two piles of crap trying to avoid touching anything, Darci decided to screw it and not worry about touching things because otherwise she might _die_.

She gave one pile of bottles a wide berth, though, because some of them were _leaking_ , and Darci wasn't going to risk exposure to _one_ potion someone had thrown down here, much less the residue of a dozen or more.

Still, in absence of evidence of any curses or whatever, Darci _did_ grab a weird star-shaped locket to give to Eli as an apology for leaving him behind.

"Ah-ha!" Looking back to Mary, Darci saw her holding something aloft; drawing close, Darci saw it looked pretty much like the drawing of the Shadowstaff.

"Mary, you're amazing!" Claire reached Mary first, grabbing her into a tight hug before taking the Shadowstaff from her. She took a moment, as Darci approached, to turn it over in her hands, but once they were all standing together on one of the little islands in Gatto's stomach, looked up, and shouted, "Gatto! We found the Skathe-Hrün! Now what's the third test?"

"Find a way to escape my stomach!" Gatto erupted into laughter that sent the entire keep shaking. When he stopped, though, Mary's hands were in tight fists at her side, face twisted into a scowl.

"That - _jerk_! He never _meant_ for us to leave!" She glanced at the piles of treasures before a wicked smile overtook her face. "I bet _one_ one these things has some horrible curse we can inflict on him." She kicked a set of shelves, sending a dozen bottles of potions tumbling into the lava, which turned a hideous greenish-purple yellow.

"Hold it!" Darci grabbed Mary before she could cause more chaos. "We're not getting anywhere just throwing stuff around. We just need to make a way out."

"Like blast a hole in Gatto's stomach?"

"No." Darci looked to Claire. "Like make a hole in _space_. Rico said shadow magic is good for teleportation."

"Yeah, but I've never done anything like that before. I've _read_ Harry Potter and splinching is a _real phobia I have_!"

"Well, we've got two choices. You can try to 'bamf' us out of here-" At the confused glances from Mary and Claire, Darci realized she'd probably picked up more from Eli than she'd thought. "We can teleport to escape, or we can get fully digested by a mountain."

"Okay, okay. It's just shadow magic - thinking about what I want to do."

" _And don't forget me_!" Mary snapped. "Or I'll _haunt_ your ass, Nuñez!"

"Okay, just give me a second."

Darci grabbed Claire's shoulder, and after a moment, Mary grabbed the other. Claire closed her eyes and held the Shadowstaff up in one hand. She began muttering something in Spanish so quickly and quietly Darci couldn't understand it. After a minute, she opened one eye, glancing around them, and then sagging when she saw the Keep.

" _Fuck_."

"It's alright, Claire, just try again. And maybe get it right because I wanted to attend Spring Fling this year, and maybe live to college."

"That's not helping, Mary," Claire muttered.

"What are you even trying to do?" Darci asked.

"Trying to imagine there being a portal or something here." Claire waved at the space in front of them.

It sounded like it might work, but Rico had said shadow magic was about _emotion_ , right?

"Claire, I need you to try something. You know the end of Wizard of Oz? With the Ruby Slippers?"

"I don't think just saying, 'there's no place like home' is going to cut it."

"Don't just _say it_ ," Darci said. " _Feel it_. Like right in your gut. Just focus on how much you want - you want _all of us_ \- to be back home, and, I don't know, do your magic junk."

"Heh. Magic junk." 

Claire snorted. "Shut up, Mary. Let's try this. There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place-"

The protrusions at either end of the Shadowstaff sprang outward, telescoping until Claire was holding a six-foot staff made entirely of dull crystal, except for the handle her hands were still on. The crystals began to glow with...the only phrase Darci could come up with was 'dark light', despite it being the most nonsensical thing imaginable.

"-like home." Between one word and the next, shadows enveloped them, concealing all sight of the Keep around them. And when Darci could next see, they were standing in Rico's room. The changeling, currently looking like a human baby, scrambled back with a shout. But it took only a moment for his eyes to alight on the Shadowstaff.

"Oh, man, you _did_ it! Way to _go_ , sis!"

Claire didn't immediately respond with the insistence Rico _wasn't_ her brother, a clear warning sign. And then she listed sideways; Darci grabbed at Claire just as she fell, keeping her from slamming into the floor. Mary caught the Shadowstaff as it collapsed from 'six-foot staff of darkness' to 'lightsaber handle'. And Rico chuckled.

"Looks like she's gonna need a _lot_ of practice to get to the Shadowlands and back without wiping out."

\--

The ancient orders of archivists who walked the world had learned their lesson after the Library of Alexandria. There was no great repository of all human knowledge, but instead small collections hidden away to ensure that even were the whole world to burn, such knowledge would survive.

So, too, did it ensure that the damage wicked men could do was limited to the knowledge contained within the individual caches they had found.

Stricklander had proved right about the usefulness of the Janus Order's reach, as there was someone who'd been able to direct Otto here, to a place long forgotten, a library kept deep beneath the Tower of London. Here was said to be great secrets of the past, of an age long-dead.

Secrets salvaged from the ruins of Camelot.

Including, rumors said, journals kept by the greatest wizard in all of history.

 _Merlin_.

Otto finished the long climb downward, to reach a stone door set flat and smooth against its surrounding wall. Otto pressed a hand against the stone, and commanded, " _Plaosg do shùilean_."

The door slid smoothly into the floor, allowing Otto access to the room beyond. There were fewer than a dozen shelves within the cramped space, books Otto cared nothing for, until at last he found it, a thick book bound in leather, pages of parchment expertly made.

Otto set it upon a table, eagerly flipping the book open-

Only to find a page stained black, every word concealed beneath layers of paint or ink.

"No," he whispered. Desperately, he began flipping through the pages, and found each one the same, painted black over every inch of space. "No, no, no!" He knocked the book aside, dislodging a scrap of paper from the book, which drifted to earth as the book slammed into the floor.

Careful, wary of dangerous magic that could be concealed upon a single sheet of paper, Otto picked up the scrap and placed it on the table.

'To whom it may concern,

'I apologize for having defaced this book. The historical value of its contents alone would be invaluable, were I not certain its every word conceals secrets of immense power and danger. I hope you will understand, and forgive me my impertinence.

'Most Sincerely Yours,

'Galahad'

Otto crumpled the letter and tossed it aside with a snarl before turning to the other books in the room. Perhaps a hundred - if Sir Galahad had been so certain Merlin's writings concealed secrets, it was possible somewhere in this room was _something_ \- maybe even the barest hint - he could use to discover what the Janus Order needed the most.

A way to duplicate the Amulet of Daylight, so Gunmar could be returned to the surface world _without_ the Trollhunter.


	4. Other Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli walks a mile in another's shoes.

**Camelot, AD 500**

Guenevere, one hand resting against the wall, took a few cautious steps out of her room before pausing, listening. If she were heard, seen _outside_ her room-

" _Gwen_!" Guenevere flinched, made a quick step forward before another woman, dark-haired, sharp green eyes almost _blazing_ in fury, stormed after her. Like Guenevere, this woman was obviously pregnant, but no one was running around telling _her_ to stay in bed, because she was a _witch_ , and who could tell a witch to do anything?

"Mora-"

"Do _not_ try that pleading voice with _me_ , young lady!" Guenevere had to cover her mouth to hide her grin, because Morgana had no sense of humor about the subject of her age, but. Well, for being _much_ older than anyone Guenevere knew (except for possibly Merlin), Morgana did not _look_ it, so one who did not know she was a witch might think she were being facetious in her chiding of Guenevere.

"Come on," Morgana snapped, loosely wrapping one hand around Guenevere's arm. "We are taking you back to bed."

"Arthur said I should take walks every day, to keep up my strength."

"Well what does he know?" Morgana retorted. "He's a _man_."

"I see _you_ take walks," Guenevere replied. "So are you not taking his advice?"

Morgana's cheeks flushed. She tugged Guenevere's arm - but not back toward Guenevere's room, instead further along the hallway. "Your king is insufferable in his belief that he knows what is best for everyone."

'Your' king, Guenevere noted. Morgana had never given allegiance to Arthur, a matter Merlin found deeply troubling. But Morgana was Guenevere's _friend_ , and would shortly be family, in a way.

"He means well."

"So too does Lancelot, but _he_ is not hovering about telling us how to give birth as if he invented the process. And some might argue _he_ has more right to be concerned for your health than _Arthur_ does."

"Leave it alone, Mora. The child's _blood_ means little in defining their parentage."

Morgana laughed. "Oh, I jest! It is not as if _I_ don't know children with a _dozen_ parents. Still, _perhaps_ your king's advice is not terrible, though I would prefer he follow Lancelot's lead and stay silent on the matter." After a moment, she added, "Or at least direct his concern to the one bearing his _own_ progeny, who is better equipped to know when he may be safely ignored."

\---

**The Present**

Eli made a few more lines before he was satisfied with the drawing of the locket Darci had brought him back from Gatto's Keep. He'd made a careful examination of the piece of jewelry to determine it wasn't a phylactery, so was now making careful examination to determine what it _was_.

None of his research had turned up anything certain, although lockets were often used to store magical defenses to protect the wearer. The locket had proved impossible to open through any conventional means, which was further evidence it contained magic to be released only under specific circumstances.

In the end, Eli admitted failure and resolved to get Blinky's help in the matter.

But, remembering Draal's phylactery, Eli slipped the locket over his head before going to bed; just because he didn't _know_ what it did, didn't mean it couldn't help him somewhere down the line.

Eli woke early the next morning feeling, almost boxed in. He threw his blankets aside, growling as they caught on his hands. His pajamas felt constricting; Eli was halfway through trying to get his stupid too-tight shirt off when he wondered if he might be having an asthma attack or pneumonia or something worse. He tossed the shirt aside, finding it catching on his _hair_ , before hurrying to the bathroom to see if he was flushed or pale or going blue-

Looking at himself in the mirror, Eli numbly ran through the few things he knew to look for if he was dying. He definitely wasn't pale, and his skin wasn't blue.

He wasn't certain how to tell if he was flushed, given that it was a dark, almost golden, shade of yellow.

It probably wasn't nearly as much of a concern as the two pairs of horns poking from his head, ridged protrusions adding a few inches to the diameter of his head, which was a full eighteen inches higher than Eli was used to. And the fangs, couldn't forget those, at least two inches long each. His _nose_ was embarrassingly large, except maybe not that big compared to other trolls'-

He was a troll.

Had he _always_ been a troll?

No, that was ridiculous. If Eli were a changeling, he wouldn't have been able to touch the gaggletack. So what…

Eli caught sight of a gleaming star hanging around his neck. Or, _two_ stars.

Oh.

He leaned in closer, squinting, realizing after a moment that he'd left his glasses next to his bed, but that _they wouldn't fit_. But the locket must have opened in the night, and this wasn't a protective enchantment.

"Eli? What's-" Eli's mom screamed, and Eli realized in a panicked moment that he couldn't stay here. If his mom saw a giant fanged creature in her house with her son's bedroom in disarray-

He bolted, scrambling through the hallway just as his mom emerged from his bedroom, tripped and all but rolled down the stairs (his spine had changed, enough that 'rolling' was both accurate and not as painful as it would have been as a human), slamming into the wall at the bottom. He clambered to his feet as his mom reached the top of the stairs and ran for the back door, slamming it behind him as he left, and out into-

 _His sunlit backyard_.

Eli stood, frozen, staring at the _now-lethal_ patches of sunlight visible on the grass, before lunging back inside. Unable to afford caution, Eli yanked open the linen cabinet and grabbed the first thing he could find, which, once he was back outside, chased by his mother's further screams, proved to be her nice tablecloth.

This was _not_ his day.

On the bright side, he could probably beat up Steve Palchuk now.

But that was a problem for future Eli, because present Eli needed to get somewhere under cover. Eli was _much_ too far from Trollmarket, and and anyway the horngazel was back in his room, so that was out. Darci was closer, but Eli wasn't certain he could explain things before starting a panic.

Which left Jim Lake's house.

...Eli wished he knew exactly where that was.

He spent the next hour, as the sun lifted into full daylight, burning away the boltholes and shadows he might have used to hide from the sun, dodging, covered by the tablecloth, through backyards as he tried to find Jim's house. He was crouched in the shadow of a fence, staring across the street at a house he was pretty sure was Jim's, trying to plan a way to cross the street without causing more of a commotion, when a sharp voice drew his attention.

"What are you doing back here?"

"What?" A rotund lady, a vague shape to Eli's blurred vision, had poked her head over the fence. "I-"

"Come on in out of the sun," the woman commanded, and Eli, glad for some direction from someone who didn't seem immediately hostile, complied, clambering over her fence and following her into her home, a place that smelled of cat (a surprisingly appealing scent that suggested more than the shape of Eli's body had changed, a fascinating question to deal with at a later date).

The old woman puttered around her kitchen, producing a cup of iced tea she shoved into Eli's hands.

"Now, are you one of Toby's troll friends? You're not big enough to be Draal, so you must be...Blinky?"

"No, I'm...Eli Pepperjack." Having seen trolls do something similar, Eli bit at the glass, finding it crunched satisfyingly between his teeth, the muted sweetness of the tea only mildly flavoring the cool, sandlike texture of broken glass.

"A changeling, eh? Now, normally I'd take my old horseshoe to you, but Toby said there's a nice changeling in Trollmarket, so I suppose I can just give you a warning that if you make any trouble, _bam_!" She punched the side of her refrigerator, a threatening enough demonstration without remembering _Toby's_ display of strength during the fight at Killahead.

"I'll keep that in mind, ma'am, but I sort of needed to talk to Jim?"

The woman, who odds were good was Toby's grandmother, hummed. "Well, he's at school, but you can stay here until he gets home." There was a knock at the door. "Get down," she said in a hushed voice, shoving on Eli's shoulder as she crossed the house. She paused, making a wild gesture Eli was pretty sure was a 'get down' motion, so he did, crouching down behind the kitchen counter. He heard footsteps and the door opening.

"Oh! Hello. Who might you be?"

"I'm with the neighborhood watch, ma'am." The voice was gruff, clipped, and masculine; still ducked behind the counter, Eli couldn't see the source of it.

"Ooh, fancy! Did Rhonda drag you into it?"

"Yeah, good old Rhonda. We've been running around warning people about a bear sighting around here, make sure you keep your kids and pets close at hand."

"Oh, no, a bear? No one's been hurt, have they?"

"We're not sure," the neighborhood watch person replied. "The woman who called in the sighting's trying to find her son, but you know how the police are, dragging their feet. Do you know Eli Pepperjack?"

"Oh, yes! He's one of my son's friends. You say he's missing? Well, I'll make sure to keep an eye out."

"And if you see that bear, _please_ give us a call. Animals like that - we gotta make sure no one gets hurt when something like that's running around."

"Oh, yes. And you've got a card! Thanks you so much, young man!" Eli heard the door close, and then a quiet shuffling of feet.

Something slammed into the surface of the counter, sending Eli leaping, startled. There was a card on the counter, crumpled into a ball, and this close, Eli could see her face twisted in disgust.

"Ma'am? Are you-"

"Neighborhood watch, my _fanny_!" Toby's grandmother snapped. "I know everyone in this neighborhood, and he's _none_ of them. Even so, he must think I'm a simpleton not to recognize a troublemaker when I see one. A white boy wandering around with a gun like that, clear as day? He's _up_ to something."

Stomach twisting uncomfortably, Eli glanced at the kitchen window (uncovered, filtering light through the kitchen that _didn't hurt_ the way he'd expected daylight to), and then ducked out of sight. "Can you look around and see if he's still out there?"

"Hm." Toby's grandmother returned to the front door; Eli heard a click, and then she was back in the kitchen. "Stay here." She pushed open the rear door (the light passing through the open door looked _painfully_ bright; Eli drew away from it), and stepped outside. "Oh, hello, young man! I think you might be turned around."

"Oh, no, ma'am. I was just looking around-"

"On my private property, which I did not invite you onto, and which I am asking you to leave." There was politeness in that voice, but also _steel_. Toby's grandmother clearly wasn't having any with whatever trouble she thought the neighborhood watch guy was bringing. "Your type like to talk a lot about the rights of the free citizen, am I right?"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, you don't understand-"

"Young man, I'm going to ask you once more to get off of my property before I practice my civil rights at you." After a moment, Toby's grandmother closed the door, and Eli heard a click. " _That'll_ keep him away."

"If someone's grandmother threatened to shoot _me_ , I'd run too."

" _Shoot_ him? I wouldn't dream of it. I would have called the police and spent the time waiting for them to get here cussing him out. Freedom of speech, Eli. Now, why don't you explain what you were doing in my backyard while we wait for Toby to get home?"

"I don't know! I - well, I have a working hypothesis about what's happening, but I need some more coherent research on the subject before I can draw a conclusion. To _summarize_ , though, I woke up this morning looking like a - well, I guess - having been _turned into_ \- a troll. And I freaked out my mom and left before I could explain, which is why I'm just in my pajama bottoms. And I can't get to Draal or Blinky or Aaarrrgghh, so I was heading to Jim's house so I can get back to normal. If...I _can_ get back to normal." It suddenly struck Eli that he'd read stories about people who were cursed their entire lives, and that if he were one of _those_ people, he could _never_ go home. And sure his mom was strict, but she loved him, and he loved her, and he didn't think he'd be able to manage surviving on his own, even in Trollmarket, where he was sure Blinky and Aaarrrgghh would look out for him.

"Oh, there there. If anyone can fix this, it'd be Dr. Lake and Jim and their weird little cat."

"Cat...Draal! Do you think Draal might be over there?"

Toby's grandmother hummed. "Do you mean the - big blue one? I couldn't say. But I don't think it's a good idea to let him wander around when white boys with guns are around looking for 'bears'."

"They're not looking for bears, ma'am. Mrs. Domzalski?"

"Call me Nana," Toby's grandmother replied, patting Eli's shoulder. And his hormones were out of whack by _changing species_ , but he found himself sniffling to hold back tears. But he had _important_ things to talk about, so he swiped away the tears and tried not to sniff too much when he talked.

"I don't think they're looking for bears, Nana. They're looking for me."

"Oh, I know that. Can't let a bunch of boys with guns get all over-excited just because they don't know you're really a person, whatever you look like."

"That's not what I meant...Nana. I mean, they might shoot me if they could, _because_ of what I look like." Because a group responding that quickly to what must have been a panicked and confused call to the police? Sounded like people who _knew_ what they were looking for, and knew what they planned to do when they found it.

"Oh," Nana said softly. " _Racists_. Well, Toby's grandfather didn't kill Nazis at Ardennes so gun-toting white boys could shoot at perfectly nice trolls for no reason. I'll call over to the Lakes', but we're hunkering down here until Jim and Toby are back from school." She picked up a phone and dialled. After a moment, "Oh, hello, Barbara. I just wanted to let you and any of your guests know there's some thoroughly unpleasant fellows running around the neighborhood looking to shoot any large creatures they see lurking outside. So if there's any large dogs or anything over there, try to keep them inside. And please you or Jim call me when you get home. Thanks!"

There was a pause, quiet, and then the sound of pages turning, and then the beeping of the phone again. "Oh, hello. Erika, right? This is Raquel Domzalski - yes, Toby's grandmother. I wanted to let you know Eli's _fine_. Oh. Oh! Oh, no, perfectly fine. Near as I can tell, he saw the - yes, the bear - and got a little spooked. Practically ran halfway across town before he calmed down! Yes, _fine_ , Erika. No, he's _really_ quite off-balance. And I wouldn't, really. There's some excitable lads from the neighborhood watch running around, encouraging people to stay put until Animal Control handles things. Oh, no, it's _fine_ , dear. Toby always has such _nice_ things to say about your son, it's a _pleasure_. Yes, the moment I can, we'll bring him back. Oh, no, no trouble at _all_."

Listening to only half of the conversation, hearing - Nana - work so deftly to explain, keep Eli's mom from worrying, Eli lost the battle against his tears, and when Nana hung up the phone, grabbed her into a tight hug.

She squeaked, briefly, and Eli realized he actually towered over her, and was squeezing _much harder_ than he normally could. He released Nana, set her down on the ground, and then stepped back, face flushing (hopefully not visible, but he could definitely _feel_ it). "I'm sorry, Mrs. - Nana."

"Oh, quite all right. How about I get you some more tea and - what happened to my glass?"

Eli spent much of the day anxiously eating Nana's recycling while she puttered about the house, occasionally checking to confirm that the neighborhood watch guy or one of several people she was certain were his buddies were still hanging around. It seemed they'd decided Nana was harboring the troll they were hunting - accurate, but frustrating to see.

Toby burst into the house just after school. "Hey, Nana - _watch out_!" He threw his backpack at Eli, who'd been sitting on the couch. Eli yelped and ducked; Toby's bag hit and knocked over a lamp.

"Toby! Be nice! Eli is our _guest_!"

"Eli?" Toby stepped up, peering at Eli before pulling back with a gasp. "Have you been a changeling this entire time? Not that there's anything _wrong_ with that - Angor Rot's squire is a changeling-"

"I'm not a changeling. I was cursed!"

"Cursed? How?"

"I'm still working on figuring that out, but I need help, and _that_ means I need to get to Trollmarket. Where's Jim?"

"Um." Toby shrugged. "He's off training. It's just you and me-"

"And me," Nana interrupted.

"Ugh! Are you aware there are no open windows in your entire house? I have to unlock your bedroom window _manually_ , which is not easy when all you have is a set of talons."

"And Archimedes," Toby concluded as the owl landed on the back of the couch. "Why didn't you just magic your way in?"

"Because there are at least three members of the Order of Dawn crawling around outside," Archimedes snapped. "If they see an owl casting magic, they'll know _I'm_ in here, and that will _not_ help our situation."

"They're really the Order of Dawn?" When they'd discovered Kellor and Angor Rot, Eli had hoped he'd been worrying needlessly about the Order of Dawn. But Archimedes, who Eli suspected had reason not to want to talk about them (after all, _he'd_ thought the founder of the group would make a good Trollhunter), could be counted on not to mistakenly identify them.

"They must have heard of Bular's death," Archimedes mused, "and seen an opportunity to step in. The changelings are vulnerable, and they must have expected Trollmarket to be relaxing."

"What's the Order of Dawn?"

Archimedes glanced at Nana. "They are an unfortunate sect formed to assist the Trollhunter in the erroneous belief that the Trollhunter's purpose is the eradication of all trollkind-"

" _Nazis_ ," Nana growled.

"More or less," Eli said. "So I've got to get to Trollmarket where they can help figure out what's going on with me before the Order of Dawn catches up with me."

"Hm," Nana murmured. "In times like this, I like to ask myself: what would The Resistance do?"

\--

Raquel Domzalski narrowed her eyes at the young man standing at the end of her driveway, and turned to the one standing next to her car.

"I don't understand. I'm just going to the store-"

"And we just want to check out your vehicle-"

"To make sure there isn't a bear in my trunk?"

The young man gave her a too-wide smile (oh, she knew that look, from back when some 'nice' white boy wanted to get her to step aside so he could get at her friends). "Well, you know wildlife, ma'am - they can get into all sorts of places. You'd hate to get to the store and for it to wake up, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, well, I suppose. But I think I'd hear it if there were a bear back there!" Raquel chuckled, keeping her gaze light. But she could see the hard set to the young man's gaze; he wouldn't have infinite patience, not even for a doddering old lady. Because he didn't want to keep her safe from a bear; he wanted to kill a thinking creature, and didn't want her to know unless he was certain she agreed with him.

She idly wondered if she could get away with hitting his friend with her car and not get her license taken away.

"I _really_ don't think I'd feel comfortable letting you leave until I'm sure you're safe," the young man said.

"Well, I suppose. Just let me…" Raquel fumbled with her keys and turned on the windshield wipers. "Whoops! Oh, just a moment here-" She turned on the radio, hazard lights, and rolled up the window before the young man rapped on the window and pointed at the button for opening the trunk.

Raquel sighed and popped the trunk. She heard the other man come up and poke at it, and-

"What the hell, lady?"

"Oh, dear, is something wrong?"

"What's _this_?"

Raquel looked back to the pile of tote bags built up in her back seat which could, to the untrained eye, look like a troll trying to hide under a blanket. "My tote bags. Never get plastic at the market - bad for the environment, you know."

"Where's the _troll_?" the first young man demanded.

Raquel turned off her car and stepped out, and both young men took uncertain steps away from her. She allowed herself a smile as she pointed an accusatory finger at the first one.

"My husband fought you back in the '40s, and I spent the next thirty years helping friends fight for _their_ civil rights. So if you think for one second I'm going to let that sort of thing start up again…" She spat at the ground, because she didn't have words short enough she'd be certain they'd understand.

\---

Holding the tablecloth over him, curled as tight as he could on the wagon, Eli prayed for whatever sort of miracle God had to spare for scrawny bisexual Jewish boys. Every bump and jostle brought the risk of exposing Eli to the sun, or worse, the Order of Dawn, but God, or Toby's balance, was with them, as they rocketed along the back paths to the canals. Nana hadn't recognized any of the guys hanging around the house, so Eli was pretty certain that combined with Nana's distraction, they would have a clear run to Trollmarket.

"Where are _you_ going in such a hurry, Dumbzalski?"

Eli's heart sank. _Steve Palchuk_. He was probably marginally better than the Order of Dawn, because he at least wasn't armed, but Steve Palchuk seeing Toby lugging a troll around was probably close to the top of worst things that could happen right now.

"No hurry! Just heading down to the - heading out-"

"With a wagon? What are you, _five_?"

"Yes, I'm five, Steve, can you just let me go?"

"What's in the wagon, Dumbzalski?"

"None of your business, Palchuk! So if you can get out of the way…"

There was a step, a shuffling, and a grunt.

"The _fuck_ , Dumbzalski? What, you got fireworks under there? Or something _worse_?"

There was something in Steve's tone that made Eli shiver under the cloth. Fear, disgust, _anger_. Toby yelped, and then the blanket was ripped away; Eli screeched and dove to the ground, scrabbling to drag the wagon on top of him, but…

His skin wasn't burning. Looking around, he saw they were in a dense copse of trees, shaded in all but a few spots that gleamed evilly.

Eli looked up, then, and saw Steve grinning with a wicked smile that had the same promise of death as did daylight.

"I cannot _believe_ this! Sure, I suspected, with all the time Jim's been hanging with Pepperjack, but you _cannot_ be on their _side_!"

Eli dimly remembered that Steve had been one of the people attacked by the stalkling; apparently, _he_ hadn't written it off as a big bird.

"I'm gonna be a _hero_ back at the club," Steve continued, grabbing for his phone, and Eli's unease morphed into sick terror, because as much of an ass he'd always known Steve to be, he'd never imagined he'd join an organization like the _Order of Dawn_ -

"Steve, no!"

Steve froze; Eli couldn't quite see it, but he was certain Steve was staring at him. "... _Pepperjack_? You're one of _them_?"

"I…" This _wasn't_ the time for a complete explanation; the Order of Dawn would catch up with them eventually, even _without_ Steve's help. "Not really?"

"Fine, _changeling_ , then," Steve spat. "I _knew_ you were a freak!"

"Steve, don't call them," Eli pleaded. "They'll _kill_ me if they find me!"

"Yeah? Well-" It was clear there was a pat response, something practiced, vile, that made it sound okay to kill trolls, drilled into Steve, that tripped up when he tried to repeat it to Eli's face. When he realized whatever it was would get Eli killed.

Steve screamed and turned, punching a tree. Then he turned on Eli. "Get _out_ of here! _Both of you_ Before I change my mind!"

It added new urgency to Eli's and Toby's flight, uncertain if Steve was going to change his mind, if him helping them (no, Eli wouldn't give him _that_ much credit - _not_ turning someone in to the Nazis was basically the _lowest possible bar_ ) would help at all, if they would get gunned down by a bunch of trigger-happy racists…

In the end, for all their panic, the rest of their trip to the bridge was uneventful, Eli huddling in the chalk circles Kellor had sketched outside the entrance to Trollmarket to designate the areas that never saw daylight this time of the year, while Toby hurriedly made them a door.

It was surprisingly anticlimactic when they reached Blinky, who called Vendel, who, after a ten-minute lecture about putting on magic items Eli knew nothing about, declared the locket cursed, and told Eli, "First, take it _off_ ; it cannot be helping to have that on."

And then, "Transformation magic of _this_ caliber is unheard of - who knows _how_ long you might remain in this form? A day, a week, a month, the rest of your life - we'll just have to wait it out."

"Wait it _out_? What about school? What about my _mom_? She thinks I panicked after seeing a bear in our house; I can't just stay away for the rest of my life."

And then thirty seconds after sunset (according to Toby's phone), Eli turned to normal in a three-minute ordeal that he could not believe he'd slept through the first time. When Eli was able to focus again, Aaarrrgghh and Toby were retching in the corner and Blinky was taking notes hurriedly on two notebooks at once (what Eli wouldn't give to be able to do _that_ ).

And Blinky had _dozens_ of questions, but Eli was exhausted, and just wanted to go home. Aaarrrgghh and Toby were on Eli's side, Aaarrrgghh pointing out, "Mulder still a _whelp_ ". And Blinky seemed unwilling to argue Aaarrrgghh on that point, as he let Eli go after that.

Eli dozed in the wagon as Toby brought him home, and happily let his mom hug him when he arrived, but when she asked how he was, found himself too exhausted to come up with another evasion.

"Mom, I've got something to tell you."

\---

"Welcome home, Master Krel!" Krel shot the three-foot-high robot, the only chassis they'd been able to salvage from the ship, a glare, before pushing past it. The ship's AI hurried after him. "Are you well? Have you eaten? Did any humans discover your true identity?"

"Aja!"

She didn't answer, which meant she was asleep, dead, or had gotten drawn into the human internet again. He didn't understand it; _anyone_ could use it, so it was full of nonsense and terror, instead of the Akiridian Allnet, which was reserved for scholars and royalty, ensuring its utility and accuracy.

He tried her room first, knocking, and when there was no response, pushing the door open.

There she was, sprawled on her bed, staring at a video of earth creatures mock-fighting.

"Aja."

"Oh!" She looked up at Krel, grinning. "Did you see this? There are 'kittens', and they are like immature classi, except humans have tamed them. Humans have tamed _many_ more creatures than we did back home."

"You need to stop talking like that - it arouses suspicion."

Aja pushed herself up to a seated position. "But it's just _us_ , Krel!"

The AI slid into the doorway. "Hello, Mistress Aja. Have you eaten? Have you been sleeping properly? Has any human on the internet shown an unusual interest in your identity or past?"

"We need to get into practice. If you slip up in public, you can't just ask everyone to forget what they saw."

Aja shrugged, unconcerned, before glancing to the packet in Krel's hands. "Ooh! What were _you_ up to?"

"I went to the library after school." Krel set the packet on the bed, and after a moment, sat next to it. "We were right; this _was_ where Ambassador Laira was last. But I have bad news: she died some years ago. An accident, or so it says."

Although all evidence pointed to that fact, Krel wasn't so certain. That their parents had sent an ambassador to a planet that knew nothing of the rest of the universe was puzzling, which made him wonder _what_ Laira's true purpose in being here had been. And _who_ might have been trying to stop her.

"Oh." Aja's smile faded, a bit of her energy dampening. "She won't be able to help us, will she?"

"It's more than that." Krel flipped open the folder and pointed to a copy of a newspaper article. "She had a son. Which means one of our people - one of our _subjects_ \- is trapped here, lost and alone."

"Oh!" Aja bounced up, grinning. "We can _help_ him!"

And maybe through that, some good would come out of this complete disaster.


	5. Swamp Rats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angor Rot asks Jim for help, forcing him and Toby to fight the most dangerous of foes - the Walt Disney Corporation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence tag applies here. Move cautiously.

**Killahead, AD 518**

"Lord?"

Gunmar glanced down at the quavering troll - weak, barely worth a place in Gunmar's army. But Orlagk, weak as he was, had allowed weakness to flourish within his tribe - those who had no place in a trollmarket. He let a growl rise in his throat, a sound all of his underlings should recognize as inquisitive, a command to continue.

"A - visitor, my lord. A… _human_."

"Why are you telling me this? Why are you not casting their entrails before me in tribute?"

"Because he believes even _you_ fear the wrath of the Pale Lady." Gunmar straightened as the elf witch stepped into his hall, eyes glinting like emeralds. There was a gentle smile on her face, the expression of one who feared nothing.

"Lady," Gunmar allowed. "What brings you to my dark hall?"

"Why you, Gunmar the Black, Skullcrusher, the End of Man."

A dark shape appeared out of the darkness, fluttering as it landed on her shoulder. The creature, a dark bird, cocked its head, and croaked, "Gunmar, herald of the Night Eternal!"

Gunmar snorted. "How can I be the End of Man, the herald of Night Eternal, with a clan so _weak_ as the Gumm Gumms?"

The Pale Lady's smile shifted, to something sharp, deadly. "They are not weak, Gunmar. They… _lack_. I come to make a trade, Gunmar. To give your people the _drive_ to serve you without fear."

She turned to Gunmar’s servant and swung a great blade at him. The troll cowered, and Gunmar half-rose from his seat, to rend the witch who came to his hall and killed his people-

But the blade did not touch the troll. Instead, the troll struggled against some magic or force, eyes gleaming bright as the blade was surrounded by mist. 

At last Morgana dropped the blade, and the troll was _changed_. No longer was he cowering before Gunmar, but instead stood tall, eyes moving with the watchful purpose of a predator. Gunmar felt a desperate _want_ in his breast. With such a blade, his cast-offs could be real warriors.

But Morgana was not known for giving gifts. There was always a price.

"And what does the Pale Lady wish in return?"

Morgana stepped aside, swinging a basket she had held behind her back. The child within cooed and giggled as it spun. "My servants will bring children to you, Gunmar. Children you must see come to no harm. And who knows? If you treat them well, Gunmar the Black, you may find more useful servants in time…"

\---

**The Present**

Tiffany shrugged. "Georg came _well_ after my time, and I didn't speak to him much, even then. He was not the most introspective of individuals." She sighed. "He spoke most often with St. John, who was...not the ideal influence."

"By which you mean-"

"St. John was particularly unenlightened on the subject of changelings. I suspect his conspiracy theories heightened, if did not themselves inspire, prejudice that led to attempted genocide against a number of groups."

"Oh." Jim let his head fall forward onto the table of Tiffany's library, the space the Void, or Jim's mind, or whatever it was, formed when he met with her alone. He'd hoped the past Trollhunters might have insight regarding the Order of Dawn, but wasn't seeing much luck. "Look, I know he's racist and a Nazi-"

"He would actually be quite offended if you called him a Nazi. He saw his calling as higher, more noble, than that of the Nazis."

"You say that like I care whether he's offended."

"I thought it was worth mentioning. You will find the Order of Dawn see themselves as better than your garden-variety white supremacist, partly because of his influence."

"But that was my point. Is it possible to talk to him?"

Tiffany paused, and then shook her head. "The Amulet of Daylight...captures the soul of the Trollhunter attuned to it, and binds it within itself upon death. But Georg's soul was drawn away from the amulet when he died. No great loss, if I'm being frank."

"It would have been nice to interrogate him, though."

"Look, I'm usually the last person to suggest this, but...Sloane may know more about the Order of Dawn. He was Trollhunter during their most active years."

Whatever he _did_ know, though, Sloane wasn't helpful.

"What do I care if the Order of Dawn kills all the trolls?" His space usually manifested as a classroom, indistinct notes scribbled on chalkboards, a pair of seats at the center. He was pacing between several boards as Jim tried to engage him.

"Tiffany said-"

"I don't _trust_ any organization that runs itself like they did. All...hierarchical. And as long as I'm stuck in the Void, I honestly don't care if it becomes a Nazi dystopia out there." He grunted.

Jim wrinkled his nose. With fifteen hundred years of Trollhunters, one of whom had lasted longer than thirty years, he was aware they couldn’t all be gems, but he wondered sometimes about Archimedes’ judgment. “Is there something I could do to get you to help?”

There was a flicker in Sloane’s eyes, something desperate, almost hungry. “You talk to Arthur, right?”

“Yeah.”

Sloane opened his mouth again before shaking his head. “Never mind. Forget about it.”

Before Jim could protest, his head swam with the disorienting moment between the Void and the waking world. He woke in his room, aware _there was someone there_.

And there it was, a troll, with dull red skin, wild red hair, hazel eyes, crouched on Jim’s desk.

“What the _hell_ , Kellor? What are you _doing_ here? Didn’t anyone teach you to knock? And where’s Archimedes?”

“Didn’t want to wake your mother,” Kellor replied flatly. “And if you think I have trained for seventy years under the founder of the Eclipse Knights without learning how to evade Archimedes and Raum-“

“Wait - you know who Raum is?” Jim scrambled out of bed, crossing to his desk, where Kellor was still crouched, all but unmoving. “Archimedes wouldn’t say anything about his-“

“Archimedes doesn’t like talking about Raum. Doesn’t like acknowledging there’s someone out there who might be better than him.”

“But Raum. He’s - he’s Morgana’s familiar, isn’t he?”

Kellor gave Jim a startled glance before she smirked. “Been reading up on your own, have you?”

“No, I mean, sort of? Anything that mentions Merlin mentions her eventually. Who is she?”

Kellor hopped off Jim’s desk and cracked her neck as she stood up straight. “Don’t have time for that. Angor Rot wants to see you.”

Jim felt a chill down his spine. All of the other trolls spoke of Angor Rot in reverent tones. Draal had been adamant, though, that even though Kellor had determined Jim wasn’t a threat to Trollmarket, he wasn’t to seek out Angor Rot.

Angor Rot had been fighting the enemies of trollkind, human _and_ troll, for eight hundred years. He bore the Eclipse Gauntlet, an item nearly as powerful as the Amulet of Daylight. He was the champion of trollkind, and had never called a Trollhunter friend.

“Come on.” Kellor grabbed Jim’s hand and tugged him forward. “You want to make a good impression. I had to talk him into this already.”

Jim stumbled, and gave Kellor a shocked look. She was frowning slightly, didn’t _look_ like she was joking.

“Talked him into this? What-“

“Come. On.” Kellor punctuated each word with a yank, but Jim shook her off.

“Fine, but give me a minute to get dressed.”

Kellor muttered something that might have been, ‘humans’, but she gave Jim enough time to change from sleep pants and shirt into some real clothes. He left a note for his mom (gone to see Angor Rot. Have been promised he won’t murder me. Love Jim), and followed Kellor outside.

“You’ve got the Amulet, right?”

Jim produced it in response, couldn’t help but notice how intently Kellor looked at it.

“Good.”

Kellor moved quickly, forcing Jim to run to keep up, but not so fast he couldn’t think. Or talk. Kellor was a mystery, one he wanted to solve.

“How are you working for Angor Rot? I thought changelings all worked for Gunmar.”

Kellor snorted. “Changelings don’t work for Gunmar. They work for Morgana. We use that, sometimes. Some are mercenaries. Even traitors.”

“Yeah, but - your familiar. If Gunmar wanted, he could kill your familiar and you couldn’t shapeshift anymore.”

“Yeah, two things wrong with that. Goblins aren’t good at categorization. They’ve spent centuries seeing babies as things to keep safe in the Nursery. You try to let them think there are babies they’re allowed to let come to harm, you’re opening up a whole can of worms.”

“Hm.” That was...interesting, knowing that Gunmar couldn’t get rid of one changeling without sacrificing his entire operation.

“It’s easier to kill them up here anyway.”

...right.

“What’s the other thing wrong?”

“Oh, that?” They were at the canals now; Kellor produced a horngazel and began drawing on the bridge. “I’m not a changeling.”

That bombshell kept Jim company as Kellor led him down into Trollmarket, to the arena called the Heroes’ Forge, where troll warriors trained, played violent sports, and held duels.

And there was Draal, looking small next to Angor Rot, despite being taller and broader.

Angor Rot _loomed_. He looked something like a tall man wearing a mask, a stony face framed by horns that bent down from his head. His stone skin was scarred, strange, vinelike growths on his shoulder, and…

The Eclipse Gauntlet. It seemed to be made of darkness itself, a void at the end of Angor Rot’s arm, except where six gems were set, one at the base of each finger, and one on the back of his hand.

Jim suddenly remembered the depressions set within the Amulet of Daylight; Angor Rot didn’t seem like the type to wear something because it looked pretty, which meant those gems must have a purpose.

“Trollhunter,” Angor Rot growled. “Never before have I sought out one of your profession, not for a meeting such as this.” Angor Rot had probably been _very_ interested in meeting Georg the Dawnbringer, but Jim doubted that meeting would have been pleasant.

“I’m honored, sir."

"Spare me," Angor Rot replied. "If I wanted praise I would ask for it." He turned, allowing Jim a flash of the dagger he held in his free hand. "Draal says you _respect_ him. Blinkous and Aarghaumont believe you are a friend to trollkind. Kellor says you threatened her because you believed her to be a threat to Heartstone Trollmarket."

Jim looked up to Angor Rot's golden eyes, stomach knotting. "I didn't know she was your squire, or I wouldn't-"

" _Once_ , I met a man. A human. He _hated_ trolls. But there are dangerous trolls in this world, those who threaten humanity. I did not give that man a second thought. But that man delved deep into his hatred, and made friends, _dangerous_ friends. Who knew secrets that led the man to a power someone like him should never have had." Red burned in the depths of the troll's eyes, turning gold to copper. "You cannot be faulted for striking at what you believe to be a threat, Trollhunter. Not if you also show the sense to see when something is not a threat."

Angor Rot sighed and the flames in his eyes faded. "But you have your own teachers, Trollhunter. And I did not bring you here to lecture you. I brought you here for your _help_."

"My...help?"

"Yes. The king of the Quagawumps - swamp trolls - has been fighting to defend their homeland from a monstrous foe. But he has died - murdered - and now they are helpless before this foe.”

Jim was pretty sure he could see where this was going, but had to ask. “And where do I come in?”

“I do not believe one warrior alone can save the Quagawumps, but I dare not leave Arcadia undefended so long as the Order of Dawn feels safe operating in plain sight. Kellor suggested I ask your help, to prove you are more than not a threat, but an asset.”

“That’s really generous of you, but I have no idea if I can be any help. What sort of enemy are they fighting?”

“I believe you call him...Mickey.”

Jim was still complaining when he and Toby returned to Trollmarket at dusk, packed for a slightly indefinite trip to the wilds of Florida, where the Disney company was trying to build a theme park over the Quagawumps’ swamp.

“I’m worried they won’t be happy unless I can produce a giant mouse head.”

“Didn’t you try explaining Mickey Mouse isn’t like, a real person you can kill?”

“I tried! But he kept going on about how if Mickey isn’t real, I shouldn’t know how to recognize him, and then Kellor chimed in talking about the personification of symbols...though I think she might have just been fucking with me.” It brought up the possibility _Angor Rot_ might have been fucking with him, because the _actual_ problem had nothing to do with an animated mouse.

“Jim?”

“What?”

Toby actually looked a little pale, sending a thrill of worry through Jim. “What if Mickey Mouse _is_ real?”

“We cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“No, Jimbo. If Mickey Mouse is real - _what about Chuck E. Cheese_?” Toby was legitimately hyperventilating by the end, so Jim ran a hand along his back.

“Toby? Tobes? I need you to calm down. You’re overthinking this.”

“Oh God - _The Burger King_ \- he’s a master of stealth!”

Jim sighed, because he _wanted_ to be tolerant, letting other people be, but some things he couldn’t live with.

Such as anyone who made his best friend panic like this.

“Tobes? If The Burger King is real, you and me are gonna go find him and put his head on a spike.”

“Really?” Toby didn’t look _calm_ , but he _did_ look hopeful, which was a good first step.

"Yeah, but it isn't going to come to that, because killing Mickey Mouse isn't going to help Angor Rot. The Disney corporation is trying to build an expansion to an amusement park, not exterminate the Quagawumps."

Toby shrugged. "But if they're driven off their homeland, isn't it sort of the same thing?"

"I just wish I knew what they expect us to do about it. You don't stop giant corporations assaulting construction crews."

That thought bothered Jim as they followed the paths to the edge of Trollmarket to the Gyre, the giant wheeled device that connected troll settlements across the world. Angor Rot had seemed pretty certain the old Quagawump king had died in battle, and that meant-

What? That the Walt Disney Corporation _had_ hired assassins to remove an inconvenient settlement of trolls from the site of their future theme park?

...Damn.

That was _exactly_ it.

Kellor was waiting for them; she nodded approvingly at Jim, but glared at Toby.

"He isn't armed. Why isn't he armed?"

"Because we didn't have a battleaxe laying around the house?" Toby replied.

Kellor sighed and grabbed Toby's hand, tugging him as she stormed off; he was forced to jog to keep up with her long strides. Jim hurried after them.

It took only a minute to realize Kellor was taking them toward the Heroes' Forge, a realization that came with a spark of worry. "Um, Kellor?" Jim asked. "You aren't going to fight him, are you?"

She gave Jim an exasperated huff. " _No_ , I am not going to try to _kill_ your best friend. I am trying to save his _life_ by making sure he is properly armed when he faces down Mickey Mouse."

"Um, Kellor? You know we're not really-"

"Trollspeak does not use as much metaphor as English, but they are fond of synecdoche," Kellor said. "It comes of being a species whose existence is rooted in magic, where a symbol can become real, or the face of the thing what must be destroyed to destroy the thing. Angor Rot is not _stupid_ ; we do not expect to fight a giant mouse at the end of this." She paused outside a heavy barred grate, through which Jim could see piles of weapons. "Though if it becomes necessary, I must be certain you are willing to destroy a beloved symbol of your childhood for the sake of the Quagawumps."

"Eh, Mickey's past his prime," Toby replied. "Now let's get me some _weaponry_."

It took three swords and a trident before Kellor shoved Toby away from the piles. "Okay, you clearly have _no_ idea how this works. You're strong, but don't have the speed to handle the footwork necessary for most blades or polearms. You need something that takes advantage of your momentum - an axe, or a-"

" _Warhammer_ ," Toby breathed, standing in front of a hammer made of orange crystal, one end flat and the other jagged. He turned to Kellor, bouncing on his heels. "Can I try it? Can i?"

"It can't-" But Toby had grabbed the hammer before Kellor finished speaking, and was spinning it with careful swings.

"Hm." Toby stepped down hard as he made an overhand swing. "Heavy, but this can do some _real_ damage." He grinned up at Jim, who smiled in response. Toby'd walked into these fights with improvised weapons, only trading up by luck at Killahead. Seeing him with something _made_ to fight the way Daylight was, comforted him.

Still…

"You sure it's okay?" Jim asked quietly as Kellor led them back to the Gyre. "You said it was heavy-"

"It's gonna need to be heavy to lay the smackdown on Mickey." Toby paused. "Okay. Five bucks says we actually have to fight a giant mouse."

"I'll do you one better - Loser pays for Taco Tuesday at Joaquin's."

"Deal."

"If we are _done_ ," Kellor said, "we have a tribe of trolls to save."

Five minutes later (include three minutes of Jim trying to avoid throwing up _after_ they arrived), they stepped out from beneath the ground into a dark swamp of a density Jim didn't think still existed in the world, or at least, not within spitting distance of Disney World.

"Be cautious," Kellor warned. "The Quagawumps are not friendly to strangers, even those who are here to help."

" _That's_ rude," Toby muttered, but any further comment was cut off when a spear arced from the darkness and slammed into a tree inches from his face.

"For the glory of Merlin-"

" _Down_ , Trollhunter!" Kellor slammed Jim to the ground as another spear pierced the space he'd been standing in. "I am Kellor, squire to Angor Rot! We have come in response to your plea for aid!"

A trio of green trolls - shorter than many of the trolls in Trollmarket - stepped out of the trees. One was holding a spear. Wild green hair like scrub grass rose from their heads; Jim was uncertain if the styles denoted gender, class, profession, or taste, so just stayed on the ground as Kellor stood.

One, whose hair puffed out like an afro, stepped forward. "We asked for Angor Rot, not a servant and two humans!"

Kellor's face twitched, and Jim saw her hand move toward her telescoping staff.

"Aw, man, I'm sorry, did you want this job done right, or did you want us to half-ass this?"

The troll - the Quagawump - turned their head to Toby, a scowl twisting their face. "Angor Rot is the greatest warrior of all trollkind. We asked _him_ to help us."

"Yeah, but your problem isn't with a monster, or a troll army, or even _magic_. It's with _human_ things. Corporations and real estate law and _eminent domain_. You don't need a warrior for that. You need _fleshbags_."

Throughout this, Toby, hammer slung over his shoulders, ambled forward, pacing between Kellor and the Quagawumps. When he pointed dramatically to Jim on his last word, one of the Quagawumps, who seemed to let their hair go untamed, let out a squeak. They tugged the other two in close and whispered, setting off a brief hissed conversation that ended with a sharp bark from the one with the afro.

"You are imagining things, Wumpa!"

"I am not!" the wild-haired one, Wumpa, shouted. "Blungo is dead, and then _he_ comes when we have asked for help! Sent by _Angor Rot_!" They were pointing at _Toby_ , instead, as he might have assumed, at the Trollhunter.

"What you say is impossible! The dead cannot return! Even _Angor Rot_ \- even _Morgana_ \- could not do that!"

"You do not think the Shattered King could return, if he desired? To save us in our hour of need?" Wumpa turned to Toby, paused, then sank to her knees. "You are Shattered King, right?"

"Shattered…?" Toby glanced, panicked, at Kellor, who shook her head minutely. "I...don't know I'm _not_ the Shattered King. Past lives can be weird." Wumpa's expression was a little flat, confused. They looked...disappointed, which was presumably why Toby, who liked making people happy, did what he did next. "But now, looking around this...great swamp, I remember! Yes, I _am_ the Shattered King, and I am here to save you!"

Kellor slapped her forehead. Jim was a little too worried about what the Quagawumps would do when they found out Toby was lying. But the declaration won over the second of that group, which was apparently enough proof to drag them back to the Quagawumps' encampment and stick Toby on a high stone throne.

There was a statue there, and Jim could sort of see a desperate troll looking at Toby and thinking he looked like the Shattered King.

He sidled up to Kellor as trolls began arriving for the announcement, and probably a party. She wasn't glaring, quite, but had a grim not-smile on her face that made it clear she wasn't happy.

"So. What happens if they find - if they decide Toby isn't the Shattered King?"

Kellor's face twisted, mouth moving into something more like a frown. "Have you ever seen 'The Return of the Jedi'?"

"Why have _you_?"

She gave Jim a pointed stare. "I've spent most of the past thirty years passing myself off as a human teenager. Of _course_ I've seen it."

"So. Um. Why do you ask?"

"Do you remember the Ewoks?"

"The part where they were going to eat Luke and everyone at C-3PO's banquet?"

Kellor glanced at the assembled Quagawumps. "...I hadn't considered that."

"Or the part where they didn't listen to C-3PO until he demonstrated his godlike power?"

"Damn, it's been a _while_ since I saw that movie," Kelor muttered. "Okay. We are screwed."

Wumpa shouted, a wild war cry, and the Quagawumps around them fell silent. "Many years ago, Gunmar killed our great king, he with powerful magic, and his Phylactery set with _three stones_. Now Blungo _dead_ , and Angor Rot send to us - _Toby Domzalski_!" There was an awed silence as the Quagawumps took in the sight of Toby, who, yeah, though he was wearing a sweater vest, looked sort of impressive, sprawled on the throne with his hammer resting next to him. "He is Shattered King _returned_ as a human, to help defeat the human familiar Mickey Mouse and save our swamp!"

The assembled Quagawumps cheered, but there was a discordant note. The one with hair like an afro stormed to the throne, silencing the cheers with a wave of their hands. "Wumpa say this is Shattered King! But she called Blungo _false king_! She has seen signs for Shattered King before and _never_ been right! If this is Shattered King, what are his great deeds? Where is his magic? Where is his great song?"

"Great deeds?" Jim swung up to join the troll on the dais with Toby. "Let me tell you about great deeds." He turned out to the Quagawumps, a spark of - he didn't know - fear or excitement at the impassive faces. "I was tasked to face Bular the Vicious, Gunmar's son - as fierce and dangerous as his father. Toby, though this was not his duty, came with me. Armed with nothing more than a wooden club, he defeated Bular's army of goblins - dozens of them, seeking to tear him apart! Then with great cunning, he _disarmed_ Bular, and turned his own sword against him!" There was a collective sigh, impressed, Jim hoped. "It was not his duty to slay Bular, but he left my foe distracted, wounded, so when I faced him, I was ensured victory. And _that_ is Toby's great deed!"

The trolls cheered, and Kellor flashed Jim a thumbs up.

"Then what about magic?" the dissenter demanded. "The Shattered King had _great_ magic - could make himself light as air, or crush his enemies with the weight of his stare! What magic do _you_ have, Toby Domzalski?"

Toby smirked and stood, stepped forward so all of the trolls could see him, and held out his left hand, palm toward himself, right hand above it with his thumb folded-

"Oh god, we're going to die."

Toby slid his right hand along his left, and heard a startled gasp from the assembled trolls.

"He removes his limb!" Wumpa shouted.

"And put it back!" another troll cried.

"That is _great_ magic!" another shouted, and the trolls cheered.

"So he has performed great deeds! So he has great magic! Any creature may do these things!" The lone dissenter paced the stage with clipped, angry steps, sending Toby back, nearly to the throne. "But he must prove himself to be a Quagawump reborn, and for that, he must give us his song. The song of a king. The song of a _warrior_."

The troll turned to Toby, a vicious grin on their face, and for a moment, Jim could see panic there.

But Toby glanced at Jim, and the panic faded, replaced by something grim. Determined. And Toby stepped forward with heavy steps. He flashed Jim a grin, and stomped twice.

Clapped.

Stomped twice, clapped. Stomped twice, clapped. Stomped twice, clapped.

"Buddy you're a boy make a big noise, playin' in the street gonna be a big man someday!"

Oh, _god_. 

But the stomping, the clapping, seemed to resonate with the Quagawumps, their need for a call to war. When it was finished, the dissenter was on their knees, tears in their eyes.

"My _king_."

Wumpa stormed the stage, grinning, as they turned to the crowd. "You see? The Shattered King has returned to us! Singing a song of woe and destruction to our enemies!" Another troll was there, one smaller, frailer, carrying a crown, a simple gold construction adorned with a green gem, and two depressions beside it.

There was clearly no stopping this, which could _not_ end well-

"Wait!" Toby cried out. "I may be your Shattered King returned, but I do not deserve this crown. In my past life, I failed you. I have returned to atone for that failure, to save you! Until I have done so, I do not deserve this crown!"

It was a nice save, Jim thought, but Kellor was not impressed, and turned on Toby the moment they were able to beg a moment alone in the pavillion reserved for the king.

"When they find out you're not the Shattered King-"

"Who's to say I'm _not_? Jim's right, I did some pretty awesome stuff. And they _loved_ my song-"

"Technically, Queen's song," Jim added.

" _Regardless_ , it doesn't help us protect them."

"Well, what _would_?" Jim demanded. "Because you've told us the problem is that they're building a theme park over the place. We can't kill the Walt Disney Corporation, and they've got lawyers, and land rights, and - and _lawyers_."

"It is like any other fight - we must render them unable or unwilling to continue."

"We've already established we can't _actually_ beat them, so we need a way to make them...not _want_ to bulldoze this place."

Kellor snorted. "I've been around humans long enough to know we can't exactly ask them to do it out of the goodness of their heart."

"What?" There was a strange, droning noise that Jim had caught only a few words of Kellor's response.

"We're talking about a _corporation_ , Trollhunter - the soulless manifestation of humanity's greed."

"What?"

Kellor rolled her eyes. "Toby, go tell your people to stop their singing."

"That's singing?" The droning shifted after a moment, from a single tone to complex harmonics that moved on to a haunting melody, a wordless song composed of a hundred voices. "That's-"

"It's _beautiful_ ," Toby murmured. "Do you think they _know_? What they're doing here, driving them out of their home?"

"Of course not; no one who has ever ventured into the Quagawumps' swamp has heard their song and lived to speak of it."

"Wait." Jim held up a hand. "No one's _been_ here? Then why does anyone think this would be a good location for a theme park?" He saw the flash of understanding when Kellor got it; Toby seemed to enthralled by the Quagawumps' song to focus. "Toby. Tobes." He poked Toby, who flinched, giving Jim a guilty look. "Get them to stop. Tell them we need to plan. There's something fishy going on here."

They called a council of war, Jim, Kellor, Toby, Wumpa, and the dissenter, Rapun.

"You told Angor Rot people were encroaching on your land, that they killed your king, Blungo. But this happened _recently_?"

Rapun nodded at Kellor's question. "Over the last month, we have seen humans with guns - hunting in daylight, when we must stay in shade. And at the edge of our territory, the great digging and wrecking machines."

"But you never saw a surveyor - a human with a tripod - a three-legged device, or saw devices flying above the trees?"

Rapun and Wumpa both shook their heads. Jim could see Kellor thinking, knowing she was thinking the same thing as he was. No one would be building somewhere there hadn't been a survey, not just an environmental one, which a corporation might fake, but a review by engineers what it would take to develop the land.

"What is the matter?" Wumpa asked. "Can you not help?"

"No, I think we _can_. More importantly, we can help _easier_ than we thought we could. But we need more information. Can you take us to where you saw the building machines?"

Wumpa looked to Toby, who nodded.

And so Wumpa and Rapun led them to the edge of the swamps, where the Quagawumps paused, hesitant to lead. But at Toby's urging, they did, spears at the ready as they approached a bulldozed pit, a fenced-off area full of construction equipment.

Toby was the one who noticed, and shoved them within a convenient bush to avoid, a pair of armed guards. Jim watched them as they moved past, eyes fixed on the swamp, rather than any other direction. As they turned away, Kellor gasped.

"What?"

She pointed at the guards' retreating backs, to the logo plastered across them. "That." It was a rising sun radiating lines like lightning bolts. "That is the symbol of the Order of Dawn." She was rising already when Jim grabbed her arm and pulled her back down; she snarled.

"Just hold on!" Jim whispered as loud as he dared. "We don't know how many there are, and besides...we need information right now more than we need to get rid of a couple of Nazis."

Kellor glared at him, but sank back down. They remained there, careful, for an hour, as midnight passed, and they had an idea of a pattern, and a destination. There was a trailer offset from the center of the camp, a place where they might find answers.

Kellor led the way, moving with almost preternatural stealth. The Quagawumps were nearly as quiet; it probably came from hunting half-submerged. Toby had wrapped his hammer in a dull cloth the Quagawumps had lent him, and Jim hadn't dared to activate the Armor of Daylight. Dodging the patrols, they found their way to the trailer, where Kellor twitched at the lock with her claws, pushing the door open with a smirk when she opened it.

And inside…

There were maps, surveyor's notes, construction orders…

For a location twenty miles to the west.

"I don't understand," Wumpa said.

"There are plans for an amusement park, one surveyed, planned, approved," Kellor said. "I don't know who this 'Tim Robbins' is, whether he's in on it, or if he's a convenient scapegoat, but he hired the Order of Dawn - or, Sunwire Incorporated - to perform the early stages of the construction. Filling in the swamp, tearing down the trees. But instead of the location planned, they're going to bulldoze the Quagawumps' swamp."

"But won't they get in trouble? You can't just fill in any swamp you want! You've got to do studies and surveys and-"

"It'll be an 'unavoidable mistake'," Jim growled. "A miscommunication. There'll be a secretary, maybe a vice-president, somewhere, fired for it. But the Quagawumps will be gone."

"So?" Toby demanded. "We just tear this place apart!"

The Quagawumps grinned at his enthusiasm, and Jim could see something like a smile on Kellor's face.

But it wouldn't work. Tiffany spoke on this, occasionally. To stop your enemy, you had to see where they were weak. The Order of Dawn was _used_ to sabotage, to direct attack, he bet. They could replace this place overnight, if they could orchestrate this operation.

Their weakness was...they weren't supposed to be here.

The last thing they wanted was _attention_.

"Wumpa? Rapun? I need you to catch an animal - anything - and bring it back here. You can stun it, or kill it, if you need to, but don't let it bleed." He glanced between Toby and Kellor. "Kellor? When they get back, I need you to call the cops."

"The cops? They've got a permit to be here - or somewhere like here."

"Did you know the cops don't need a warrant to enter a location they have reasonable suspicion is the location of a crime?"

It took ten minutes after Kellor's panicked call for the first patrol car to roll up. When the cop saw the blood smeared across the front gate, and splattered across the trailer, clearly lit by the light Jim had turned on as they were leaving, it took another ten for three more patrol cars to show up. And then…

Oh, they might not know what the maps meant. But there would be calls. Calls that would go to the people who'd signed off on a theme park to be built twenty miles away, and somewhere in that attention, someone would see what Jim had.

Once they could make _that_ clear to the Quagawumps, they cheered considerably, and sang a three-part harmony with Toby as they returned through the swamps.

Until Jim heard something. Distant pops that sounded nothing like what he'd heard on television. He waved at Toby, who fell silent, and strained to listen again. When he heard the sound again, his heart sank.

It was gunfire.

He broke into a run, fumbling for the Amulet of Daylight, and cried, "For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!" Behind him, he heard the 'snick' of Kellor extending her staff.

"Trollhunter?"

"I'm so _stupid_!" Jim snapped. "There were just two guards out there - like they didn't care who saw the place. They never started bulldozing, even though they've been camped here for a month. They didn't need to drain the swamp - didn't need to cut down the trees. They just needed the Quagawumps gone."

" _Gone_? Jimbo?"

There was another stutter of gunfire, and after it a small sound. 

Nothing dramatic. A small gasp.

And then a bestial snarl.

When Toby passed Jim, the expression on his face made Jim falter, because it was _Toby_. Good guy, cheerful, Jim's best friend, his _brother_ , and possibly the best hugger in the world.

His teeth were bared, eyes all but blazing with fury, and he was screaming wordlessly.

Kellor slapped Jim between the shoulders as she passed. "Come on, Trollhunter, or he'll get himself killed!"

But Jim could barely keep up with Toby's furious charge, just close enough to see Toby burst into a clearing, warhammer swinging up in a deadly arc. There was a brief scream, cut off before it could be resolved, and then Toby dashed forward.

Kellor hopped to brace herself against a low-hanging branch and then launched herself into the space beyond. There were two brief screams and then Jim, Wumpa, and Rapun were out of the trees.

There was a nearby shot; Jim was knocked a step back, but then he sensed movement in the corner of his eyes, and he swung around, catching a man's hands with Daylight. The man yelped and dropped the assault rifle he'd been aiming at Wumpa. Jim ducked and rolled through calf-deep water to avoid a shot he hadn't been aware had been aimed at him. He heard a grunt and saw a man dropping, clutching a bloodied leg shattered so Jim could see bone, saw another collapsing as Kellor slipped from behind him.

Three Quagawumps fell into the water, bodies turning to stone as they did. Toby, still howling, charged past, and Jim saw a man's face caved in by a brutal swing.

He hurled Daylight at a dark shape barely distinguished from the darkness surrounding it, heard a pained howl, but had no time to consider it, not when a flash of movement forced him aside a moment before someone tried to shoot him again.

It was like the height of the battle with Bular, when Jim had abandoned thought to instinct. But his mind had been wracked with panic, then. Now, with his body moving practically on its own, Jim had the luxury of thinking on this.

He'd worried about fighting humans. But he'd had no difficulty trying to kill Bular, and in the end, aside from their species, they weren't any different. One wanted to kill all humans, and the other all trolls.

There was a middle ground, there, where the only people who died were the ones who sought only violence.

"Trollhunter. I'm disappointed in you." Jim froze at the voice. There was something in it - a confidence, that gave him pause. He turned slowly, and there…

A man, tall, broad, blond, eyes like ice, stood beneath the Quagawump throne, one arm around Toby's throat, the other with a pistol pointed at his head. Quagawumps, living and injured, stood in silent shock, and Kellor was nowhere to be seen.

"You were made to do great things, Trollhunter. Surely you know that."

"To stop Gunmar," Jim replied.

The man shook his head, an indulgent smile on his face. "We must protect the existence of our people from the rise of trollish race. That is our motto. The motto of Georg the Dawnbringer. But then, maybe it's not your fault. The old pigeon didn't have the courage to choose someone to carry on Georg's work; he's tried to hide the other Trollhunters away from us."

"What do you want?"

"Help us," the man said.

"Never. I've made _friends_ in Heartstone Trollmarket."

"Then give us the Amulet. Walk away from this."

"I can't. This is a job for life."

The man stared at Jim for a shocked moment before he laughed. "Is that what the old pigeon told you? That you don't have a choice? That's why the Order of Dawn doesn't trust nonhumans, Trollhunter - they cloak themselves in lies. So walk away, Trollhunter, and let us put the Amulet of Dawn to good use."

There was a surge of hope at the man's words, confusion, anger, and then…

Toby's eyes were shining with tears. He was shaking with frustration.

Toby, who'd had a choice.

But hadn't really.

Because when you stood between a monster and an innocent, your choice was to stand up for the innocent…

Or to be a monster yourself.

"I always had a choice. I just couldn't let a monster hurt anyone who didn't deserve it."

The man shrugged. "Well, can't say I didn't try." His arm twitched.

"No!" Rapun grabbed the man's arm, twisting it away from Toby's head. A gunshot rang out, and Toby stumbled away from the man. Jim felt a moment of panic, but didn't see any blood. Rapun and the man were struggling over his gun, and there was another shot-

Rapun stepped away from the man, body greying as he stumbled, fell back.

"My king," Rapun murmured. "I'm sorry...for doubting you."

Toby had frozen, staring at Rapun and the man, as the man looked up at Toby, and then further up at the statue of the Shattered King. He smirked. "A troll...reborn in a human body? That's possibly the most perverse thing I've ever heard." He raised his pistol, and Jim found himself frozen in panic. He couldn't move fast enough, he knew.

"I'll kill you," Toby whispered, hands fisted at his sides.

"You can try," the man said, cocking the pistol. "But you can't do it before I can pull the trigger."

Something creaked behind the man, and he spun, gun rising toward the sound as he turned.

But he was expecting a troll, so when the tree above him succumbed to years of rot or the inevitable pull of gravity and snapped, he squeezed the trigger instead of dodging the three hundred pounds of deadwood that fell on him.

Silence held for a long moment, no one, troll or human, moving, before Toby walked forward onto the first step of the dais, face grim, unmoved. And then…

Stomp, stomp, clap.

Dozens of feet joined in the next repetition, stomp, stomp, clap.

Stomp, stomp, clap.

Stomp, stomp, clap.

Jim didn't know if any of the Order of the Dawn made it out of the swamp alive, but he couldn't bring it in him to care. If the Order of Dawn was willing to do something like this to wipe out trollkind, they'd learn sooner or later that Jim wouldn't help them.

It was nearly the twilight of dawn when the Quagawumps gathered their dead in the shadow of a massive tree that had to be centuries old. Its roots twisted around concrete rubble…

Jim started when he realized it was a graveyard.

"Each troll clan has their own way to dispose of the shattered." Jim jumped a step at the unexpected voice; he turned his head, seeing Kellor, face impassive, watching the Quagawunps as they piled the remnants of their dead amongst the roots of the great tree.

"Where have you been?"

"Taking care of some trash," Kellor muttered. Jim could smell blood on her, though her staff was clearly free of it.

As the last corpses were put in place, the Quagawumps raised their voices in song, and within it, Jim could hear Toby's voice, quavering as he sang with them.

The echoes of the song were only just fading when Jim saw Toby turn, shoving his way through the Quagawumps and away from the gathered. Like in battle, Jim moved without thought, and chased after Toby. He found Toby back by the statue of the Shattered King, hands fisted at his sides.

"Tobes?"

Toby spun and grabbed Jim, clinging to him as tightly as he could, buried his face against Jim's chest. Jim raised his hands up and returned the embrace, let Toby cry against his chest.

"Toby, it's-"

"It's not okay. Ten people _died_ today. People who didn't deserve it. All because…" He clenched his hands against Jim's back. "I hope there's a Hell, Jimbo, because that guy - he _deserves_ it."

Jim didn't know if Toby was talking about the man who'd led the Order of Dawn against the Quagawumps, or Georg, but couldn't work up an answer either way.

"I'm gonna tell them, Jimbo."

"Tell who? What?"

"I'm not the Shattered King. He wouldn't have let so many people die. He wouldn't have gotten captured. He wouldn't have let-" Toby sobbed, choking on his tears. "Wouldn't have gotten Rapun killed."

"Shattered King died to protect Quagawumps from Gunmar."

Toby gasped, and his grip tightened for a moment, and then loosened as he stepped away, turning.

Wumpa stood a dozen feet away, her face set in determination. Jim twitched his hand, calling the Amulet of Daylight to it, but not calling the armor yet.

"Toby...almost died to protect Quagawumps from the Dawnbringer. Used your magic to kill him."

"Magic?" Toby laughed. "I don't have any magic."

"You can remove your limbs and put them back. Limb fell from tree to kill Dawnbringer." Wumpa took a step forward, hands fisted at her sides. "Shattered King sang to call Quagawumps to war. Toby sang to call Quagawumps to victory. Even if you don't believe...you _are_ Shattered King, reborn. _Reforged_ King."

Toby sniffed, wiped tears from his eyes, but he was smiling. "I can't stay and be your king, Wumpa."

" _Always_ be _my_ king."

\---

"Whatcha doing, Stricklander?"

Strickler didn't look up, but scattered a handful of seeds in front of him, where a dozen pigeons hopped about, pecking.

"Feeding the pigeons."

"Heh. You know what you get when you do that? Fat pigeons!" The voice at Strickler's shoulder level snickered, and then a crow-shaped creature dropped onto the bench next to him. Raum twisted his head around, snapped at nothing in particular. "So, to what do I owe the honor of this summons, Stricklander?"

"This was hardly a summons. You demanded a hefty bribe for your cooperation."

"True. And I'm grateful, I really am. But I can't hang around here forever."

"You can."

"Fine. I don't _want_ to. So out with it, Stricklander."

"I have a question for you."

Raum hopped up, fluttering his wings in excitement. "Really? You've gone a long time without asking me a thing, Stricklander. What's finally gotten you worked up enough to beg me for an answer?"

"How...can I ensure that my people - the changelings - will thrive in the world to come?"

"Ah. One of the _big_ questions." Raum chuckled. "To do that, Stricklander, you must ensure James Lake Jr. is the _last_ Trollhunter."


	6. Airheads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby makes a discovery about himself, and makes a new friend.

**21 December 1944, Ardennes**

Smoke filled the air, and blood soaked into the ground. Angor Rot pressed the Eclipse Gauntlet against his side, letting the cool power of the Quartz Heart flow into the wounds, knitting bone, sealing torn blood vessels. The magic came only slowly, the Quartz Heart's power nearly exhausted. Still, he had done well. The battlefield was littered with the bodies of Axis soldiers, and a sorcerer of Thule who had been foolish enough to face Angor Rot alone.

No other innocent creature would suffer at his hands, and with his eyes in Angor Rot's possession, the man's magic would likely someday defend innocents from the Thule Society’s depravities.

Silver moved among the dull colors of human uniforms, worn guns, and tanks. Untarnished silver.

Angor Rot turned and followed, because there was no creature - not even the monster who led these soldiers - he wished more to see dead than the one that silver flash heralded.

Georg the Dawnbringer.

Angor Rot swung his sword, creating a wind that would cut through flesh, through metal-

It battered uselessly against the Armor of Daylight, and the Dawnbringer turned. The man grinned.

"Angor Rot! I thought you might be here. Helping humans...Tiffany said you _hated_ us. What's with the change of heart?"

"There are things in this world that should not be allowed to exist."

"On that point, you and I are in perfect agreement. Unfortunately...I think we differ on some minor details on the subject." Georg swung his sword onto his shoulder. "I've been looking forward to this, you know. Finally killing Angor Rot. There's a bounty on your head, after what you did at Treblinka, Chelmno, and Belzec. They say you didn't just kill those poor boys...you did something dark - something _wicked_ \- to them."

"Wicked?" Angor Rot felt his fury build, and he was _done_ speaking to this man as if he deserved it. "I _saw_ what those 'poor boys' did - not to trolls, whom humans fear, but to their _own kind_. If there is a Heaven - the slightest chance their spirits would pass on to Paradise - _I will deny it to them until my last breath_!"

Georg did not even try to parry the strikes; Angor Rot's blades merely rebounded from his unmarred armor. His grin widened.

"Oh, Angor Rot. I have spent _months_ traveling with the Thule Society to the furthest corners of the Earth. For dragon scales - so no blade or bullet may pierce my skin. Dragon blood - so no spell may touch me. A mirror stone so a psion's touch would slide away from me. The eye of a fire elemental, so I cannot be burned. The heart of a Yeti monk, so no chill may take me. A bezoar, so I could survive the ravages of the most deadly venom. So _no creature_ may bring about my end."

He swung Daylight at Angor Rot, forcing him to dance back rather than risk a cut from it. Janus Order laboratories had fallen to the Third Reich, so he had to assume Georg had access to Creeper's Sun. And that was all he could do, deflecting strikes, stepping away from Daylight, dodging into knots of soldiers rather than risk even a nick. 

Because there was nothing Angor Rot could do to harm Georg. He had no reason to lie; the facts spoke for themselves. Eclipse Knights had fought and died to Georg and the Thule Society in dragons' keeps, the volcanic depths - it was certain Georg had the stones he claimed rested within the Amulet of Daylight. Perhaps, if Angor Rot were better prepared, there were stones he could use to counter Georg's defenses-

But it was the poor warrior who blamed his tools. There was only so long Angor Rot could hold off Georg, even in the midst of battle - _especially_ in the midst of battle, when Angor Rot had to draw on the Obsidian Mirror to protect himself from the rays of the sun, when he had to dodge bullets, explosions that Georg did not have to fear.

There was no god Angor Rot could pray to for aid, no one from whom he might beg a miracle.

He only wished, were he to be felled by the Trollhunter - the Dawnbringer - he might have taken the man with him.

Angor Rot fell against one of the humans' armored vehicles, broken, its pilots dead within, exhausted. Georg, grinning with a smile Angor Rot knew well, having seen it on Bular's face, on Gunmar's, before he had been banished to the Darklands, walked toward Angor Rot slowly, Daylight held loosely in one hand.

The Eclipse Gauntlet held the Perfect Lens, which afforded Angor Rot a 360-degree range of vision. So _he_ saw the tank barrelling toward Georg where Georg could not.

And Georg was safe from blade and bullet, flame and cold, but concussive force, such as being run over by 30 tons of armored steel, was enough to do it.

The tank stopped, and the great cannon turned toward Angor Rot. And this...he could accept, dying only _after_ Georg.

"Hey hey!" A human clambered out of the tank, dressed in the colors of the Allies. American, Angor Rot noted. "No, calm down! I saw a guy like this back in Normandy. Cut through Nazis like they weren't even there." The man scrambled down, holding a hand out to Angor Rot. "You okay?"

Angor Rot pushed himself up. Ignoring the man, who was not a threat, he approached the wheels of the tank, where Georg struggled with lungs that could not draw breath any longer. He knelt next to the Dawnbringer.

"Do you need a medic?"

"Even if this man were not beyond help - beyond the help of anything save the Grail, or phoenix down, or the Philosopher's Stone, which thankfully his people did _not_ find for him - he does not deserve it." Angor Rot turned to the man who had saved his life, a man built like a Quagawump, with soft green eyes, a captain, by his uniform. "Though you have my thanks, if you try to save this man's life, I will be forced to kill you."

Angor Rot ignored a wheezing breath from Georg, but the man shot him a pained glance. "Look - Mr. Monster - I might be in this war to fight the Nazis, but it doesn't mean it's my place to say any man deserves death."

"What would you do, human, if this were Himmler? Goebbels? _Herr Hitler_? He leads the attempt to exterminate _my_ people!"

"Oh." The man sat heavily, hands on his knees, and watched Georg's movements slow. "Do you have a name, Mr. Monster?"

"Angor Rot, human. Leader of the Eclipse Knights."

"I'm Simon." The human - Simon - looked back at Georg. "And who's he?"

"Georg the Dawnbringer. Scourge of the troll race, the Shame of Merlin."

"Ah."

It was a strange island of peace within the battle, the two of them waiting for a man to die. Simon didn't ask further questions, not until Georg finally stilled, and Angor Rot reached the Eclipse Gauntlet over his face.

"What are you doing?"

"There is magic that will allow Georg an opportunity to poison others with his hateful thoughts, even beyond death. But with the Soul-Drinker...so long as I live, his soul will scream instead into an uncaring void."

And with that, Angor Rot plucked out Georg's left eye.

He hoped Archimedes made a better choice for his next Trollhunter.

\---

**The Present**

"I think that exchange student might have a crush on me."

Jim raised an eyebrow at Toby, frowning. "You don't mean Kelly, do you? She's like - _way_ too old for you."

Which, point. While not hundreds of years old like some other trolls, she was only slightly younger than Nana.

Toby shook his head. "No, I was talking about Aja. She and Krel have been _watching_ me, and she keeps showing up in my classes. I think she rearranged her schedule to hang around me."

"How do you know Krel isn't the one with the crush?"

Toby snorted. "I don't think Krel _gets_ crushes."

"He could just be fighting to hide his passionate love for you, uncomfortable with these new, strange feelings."

"Okay, _fine_ ," Toby allowed. "I think _one of_ the Tarron twins has a crush on me." He still personally thought it was Aja, because she watched him almost fondly, while Krel always looked vaguely worried anytime Toby saw Krel looking at him.

"Well, the spring dance is coming up," Jim replied. "You could ask one of them."

"Yeah, sure. 'Hey, whichever one of you has a crush on me should go to the dance with me'. Do you remember last year? When I asked out like twenty girls to the winter formal?" Toby grimaced, earning a sympathetic look from Jim. Toby had gotten told off by Darci Scott in the middle of homeroom, and had sort of reflexively tried to tamp down on his romantic endeavors since.

"Besides, I don't think either of them are my type." Toby looked over at Jim, who was poking unenthusiastically at his risotto. "How about you?"

"What _about_ me?" He pulled up, eyes widening a little. "Toby, you aren't-"

"Jeez, no! I wanted to know if there's someone _you've_ got your eye on. I mean, obviously Claire Nuñez is out of the question, but, I don't know, Shannon Longhannon?"

"I don't-" Jim huffed and waved his hand. "I can't really think about all that now. The Order of Dawn's been running Angor Rot and Kellor ragged trying to keep other communities safe, so us and Draal are the only defense the trolls have if the Order tries anything."

"Yeah." Toby looked up, scanning the lunchroom, and narrowed his eyes when he found who he was looking for. Steve Palchuk laughing with his football buddies. Was he just keeping an eye on Arcadia, or was he supposed to be spreading the Order of Dawn's philosophy to his friends? Nana had told him stories of how things like this worked, how one voice could become a dozen whispers, and then a flood of hatred. "How do you destroy something like that? Gunmar's the head of the Gumm Gumms, and he's got that magic sword controlling a bunch of them, so if he shows up, killing him would do the trick. But _prejudice_ -"

"We can't do _that_. But Kellor told me the Order of Dawn relies on another organization to give them an edge - the Thule Society. _Their_ strength comes from their magic, their artifacts. And _those_ \- we can destroy."

"I just wish-" Toby sighed; Jim looked in the direction Toby was, and his jaw clenched when he saw Steve.

"Yeah. You think it's possible to beat sense into him?"

Toby shook his head. "We'd just have to put up with someone else, probably someone _worse_."

Because Steve...wasn't as bad as he could have been. He'd hesitated, let Toby take Eli to Trollmarket. He didn't know if that was something to be hopeful about, or just one stop along Steve's path to becoming a full-fledged Nazi.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much point wasting energy on it. _Toby_ wasn't going to be the one to win Steve over, if there was hope. And if he ended up the same as the man who'd led the team in Florida, Toby wasn't going to cry over him when that mistake caught up with him.

He went to sleep troubled, though - about the future of Arcadia, or trolls, or Aja, he couldn't tell. And when Toby was upset, he dreamed of flying.

Or, not flying. Floating, being weightless, untethered by anything. Sometimes, swimming, Toby could almost duplicate the sensation, but nothing compared to his dreams of weightlessness. Toby had dreamed of weightlessness often, in the past few months.

He had _not_ , however, ever woken pressed against the ceiling of his bedroom.

"Um." He tried flapping his arms, but that did little more than jostle him a little. Toby shoved against the ceiling, instead, which sent him drifting back toward his bed. He almost relaxed when he landed, but when Toby grabbed at his blanket, the rotation sent him rolling into the wall. This was _not_ what Toby had imagined weightlessness to be like; the slightest motion or pressure could send him across the room.

It took him ten minutes to get back to bed with a tight enough grip he was sure he wouldn't go flying with the wrong movement. Okay. This was clearly magic, so Nana wasn't going to be much help. Eli, whose mom was _not_ as understanding as Dr. Lake or Nana, was grounded until roughly ten minutes after the heat death of the universe, so Toby wasn't going to call him unless the problem was worse than just bumping around his room. He'd never gotten around to copying Blinky's or Kellor's numbers into his phone, so…

"What'st, Tobes?"

"Jimbo? Can you and Archimedes come over? I've got a...sort of a problem."

Archimedes took one at Toby and made a disapproving clicking noise. "I've seen _this_ before. It's a nasty curse, but an old one. I could think of no more than six living people who could lay it on someone...though it lingers in old curse boxes and other items." He landed on Toby's desk, but snapped at Jim when he tried to reach out to Toby, who'd accidentally kicked off his bed when they'd arrived and had just about managed a hold on his headboard. "Don't _touch_ him! Curses are a dangerous form of blood magic, and highly contagious. Frankly, I'm not certain we should even be in the same room as him."

"Blood magic?" It was a worrying phrase; Jim must have known a little more about it, because he didn't look surprised.

"Magic that requires a sacrifice," Jim said. "There's two types of curses, I've heard - the ones that require you to spill someone's blood to curse someone else, and the ones you use your own life to cast."

" _Technically_ , there's only one type of curse. But the curse cast with one's own life - to destroy the one who has wronged you - is _far_ more powerful that curses that required _dozens_ of sacrifices." The owl dropped a wing, and his lecturing tone. "But that's beside the point. Have you handled any strange objects recently? Or angered a powerful sorcerer?"

"No! I mean - Kellor would have told us if there was anything weird with my warhammer, right?" Jim shrugged. "I guess...I _did_ piss off the Order of Dawn, helping the Quagawumps kill one of their strike teams."

"Hm. This is rather _tame_ for the sort of magic the Order of Dawn would call down, and _harmless_ compared to what the Thule Society would cook up."

"Okay, this is cool and all, but can we hurry this to the part where we _fix_ me? I'd really like to get down now."

Toby plummeted; only a quick roll kept him from his head slamming into the corner of his bedside table. Still, he hit the floor with an impact that shook the entire house; while not as strong as the earthquake the Janus Order had caused to keep Dr. Lake and Draal away when they lured Jim to the Killahead Bridge, it was certain to wake Nana.

Well, at least Toby wouldn't be floating around the house when she got here. Toby pushed himself up from the floor.

...Correction. He _tried_ to push himself up from the floor.

And six months ago, Toby _might_ have had trouble with pushups, but his trips to the gym and training with Draal had layered muscle underneath his fat. Fat was...probably the way he _was_ , but he could lift a trollish warhammer; he should be able to pick himself up.

"Toby?"

"I can't move," Toby grunted, shoving at the floor. The floor groaned with pressure when he did so; he froze, and the groaning stop.

"Toby? What's the matter?" Nana poked her head into the room, and tutted at Jim. "Jim, does your mother know you're here?"

"No, Nana. I was worried-"

"Well, I'll call her. You boys tell me if you need any help, and _ask_ before you go haring off in the middle of the night."

"Okay." Once she was gone, Jim stepped up and reached for Toby's arm.

"What did I just _tell_ you?" Archimedes snapped. "I was _about_ to point out that if this _is_ the curse it looks like, Toby's gravity should be fluctuating randomly. Which…"

"My gravity isn't fluctuating," Toby protested, face heavy against the floor. "I'm just really heavy."

"I don't know how you put up with him sometimes," Archimedes grumbled.

"I didn't see _you_ convince the Quagawumps you're their king reborn," Jim retorted.

"Hey. I gotta idea." Toby tried to raise his hand, but it was as heavy and immobile as the rest of him. "Eli said something about Claire messing around with shadow magic. Didn't you say shadow magic's good at, like, space stuff?"

"Come _on_!" Claire responded when they called her, first thing in the morning. "You think I cursed Toby? Why would I?" Toby was back to being weightless, holding onto his bed frame, as the only piece of furniture heavy enough that he couldn't move by accident if he gestured too hard.

"I don't know. Maybe you were experimenting and something rebounded?" Jim paced in front of his phone, giving Toby sight of the frown on Jim's face a few seconds at a time. "Maybe you're trying to get back at us? I don't _know_ you, Claire, except that you're messing around in weird and dangerous stuff."

"Oh, _God_. Do you think I have _time_ to mess around with gravity magic? I'm trying to find a way to get my brother back, and making you bounce around your bedroom isn't going to help at all. So unless you're rethinking helping me get to the Darklands-"

"Whatever. Thanks anyway, Claire."

Jim poked at his phone and fell back onto Toby's desk chair. "This is ridiculous. I'm going to call Blinky and see if he can give us some answers before - oh, _damn it_ , they're about to go to sleep, aren't they?"

"Don't worry. You tell Blinky there's a mystery to solve, and he'll stay up three days straight researching it."

Jim gave Toby a sharp glance. "That's not like you, Tobes."

Toby sighed and shrugged. "Sorry. This bouncing up and down isn't as fun as it seems. Like right now? I'm up. Another second? I'm - whoop!" Gravity reasserted itself, and Toby hit the bed hard enough that it creaked warningly. "I'm beginning to think we should get me back to the ground floor. You go to school, Jimbo. I'm not going to float away while you're gone."

Though he _did_ spend an hour forced to watch QVC when he lost ahold of the remote control five seconds before his gravity came back and dumped him on the couch. Toby had a triumphant moment when, after losing gravity again, he managed a slow push to grab the remote, a careful rebound off the front door, and returned to the couch without any further incident.

He flipped the TV to some cartoon - there was a kid with superpowers trying to learn to control them-

And something flicked in Toby's mind.

He _knew_ he hadn't messed around with any weird artifacts, and trusted Archimedes if he thought the Order of Dawn would have done something worse if they'd been trying to curse him. Which meant there was another possible explanation for what was happening to Toby.

That somehow, _Toby_ was doing this. He'd woken up floating near the ceiling after he'd been dreaming of being weightless, unattached to the ground. And when he thought about it...he'd switched from weightless to impossibly heavy just about when he'd started wishing he'd stop floating around. So…

Toby shifted around to make sure he was just over the couch, and closed his eyes. To the background of the cartoon kid's teacher telling him to focus, Toby closed his eyes. If this gravity thing was Toby's doing, he could _control it_. He just had to want it badly enough - had to want to be on the ground again-

Toby slammed into the couch, which collapsed with a crash.

"Ow."

It took a moment of experimentation to realize he was even _heavier_ than he'd been before.

Which meant the couch had suffered a noble death, teaching Toby this _was_ under his control.

"No. Wait. Think back to science class, Toby. You got _one_ piece of evidence. To prove this is _me_ doing this, I gotta experiment."

So Toby experimented. He closed his eyes and wanted to be weightless again - it took five minutes of concentration before he could push himself off the couch and into the air. He focused on being heavy again and slammed down onto the couch hard enough that he was pretty certain he'd bruised something.

Which was pretty good evidence.

But there was one more piece of evidence Toby needed, and that was to return himself to normal.

Toby knew his weight - for the first few weeks of working out, preparing for the inevitable moment he'd have to step in to help Jim, he'd checked his weight obsessively, expecting it to fall, expecting to go from chubby nerd to buff powerhouse. Nana had seen him crying in his room, had sat him down and explained how muscle was denser - heavier - than fat, that Toby's Grandpa Simon, whose Medal of Honor hung over the mantle, had been a stocky man himself, even in his prime. But Toby still knew the number that'd tormented him during that time.

He fixed that number in his mind, fixed his mind on _wanting_ to be that weight, wanting to walk on the ground with the force of someone who weighed that much. And this - it felt harder. It felt like a balance beam (which Toby had always been terrible at), like wanting too much, or too little, would fling him up into the ceiling, or crush him back into the floor.

And slowly, ever so slowly, Toby felt the weight crushing him into the couch ease, until he felt like himself again.

He thrust his arm up with a, "Whoop! Toby Domzalski, _for the win_!"

He scrambled up onto his legs and fell at the sharp tingling as muscles he hadn't used all day cramped up from waking up. Fifteen minutes later, muscles finally back to normal, Toby rushed upstairs, because he'd needed to pee for _hours_ but hadn't trusted what would happen if he tried.

Which is how, washing his hands, Toby had the shock of his life. Because his eyes, instead of their normal green, were an unnatural shade of blue-green that glowed even in the light of the bathroom, with no visible pupils.

"What...is going _on_?"

Not a curse, but something Toby could do _on his own_.

It'd been his sixteenth birthday last week.

"What _am_ I?"

 _Fuck_.

Toby couldn't explain why he ran, except that everything - Trollhunting, the Order of Dawn, and now _whatever_ was going on with Toby - was suddenly too much, and there wasn't anyone he could talk to about it. Tricked or not, Jim had _chosen_ to be the Trollhunter. He wouldn't understand waking up one day to discover he'd never really known who he was.

Even a note felt like sharing too much with people he was certain didn't know him, not anymore. And then Toby ran. He lost himself several times, finding his body soaring from a careless step, forcing him to calm himself, focus on that number, the weight he was _supposed_ to be, until he could move again. He wanted to scream each time it happened - whatever was going on didn't allow him to just be _upset_ without risking his _life_.

It was dusk when Toby slowed, exhausted. He'd headed away from people, so he was at the foot of the mountains, where he saw a cave.

Somewhere it wouldn't matter if he were drifting near the ceiling, or crushed into the floor. Toby fell back onto the ground there, and screamed until his throat was hoarse.

And then…

There was a heavy step near the entrance to the cave. Toby twisted his head around, and felt..he didn't know if it was relief or irritation when he saw it was Aaarrrgghh.

"Toby?"

"Hey, dude."

"Looking for you."

Which, yeah. It would have been dumb to think Nana and Jim (and probably Dr. Lake) hadn't scrambled every resource they had to find Toby.

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

"Did they tell you? What happened to me?"

"Yes. No. A little. Change-weight curse. Bagdwella had something like it in a box."

Toby laughed. "It's not a curse, dude. It's...I don't know what it is. Come on, sit down. It's not dangerous."

Aaarrrgghh shifted closer, sat down next to Toby. Toby sat with some effort, still focused on lightening himself.

"Your eyes different," Aaarrrgghh said.

"Urgh!" Toby put his hands over his eyes, scrunching them closed. "I _know_! I spent hours trying to get a handle on this, and when I did - I don't know what it means. Like - does it mean I'm a wizard? That I'm something else? Not human?"

"Mulder say not a changeling."

"Mulder?"

"Oh." Aaarrrgghh scratched at his chin. "Eli."

"And how does he know I'm not a changeling?"

"Blinky lent Mulder gaggletack. Went around school, didn't find any changelings there."

"But I could be something else. Could be _anything_ else."

"Think you have to _learn_ to do magic."

"You're - you're not really helping, Aaarrrgghh. I just feel...whatever this is, it's something I should have _known_ about. Like, if I didn't know _this_ , what _else_ don't I know?"

"Hm. Don't know."

That dragged a laugh out of Toby, because who _would_ know? Certainly not a troll Toby barely knew.

"Aaarrrgghh...knows how you feel."

Toby snorted. "How? Did _you_ find you weren't who you thought you were?"

"Hm. Grew up with Gumm Gumms. Fought with Bular - trained with Bular. Gunmar great king. But then...found an old man. In small town inside large town. Prog. Called me 'Krubera'. Would not care - people called me many things. But was powerful - wise. Had a statue that fought for him. Beat Aaarrrgghh. Made Aaarrrgghh think. Think _hard_ thoughts.

"Gunmar say trolls strong, should rule over surface. Gunmar rule Gumm Gumms because Gunmar strong. Old man was strong, and did not rule. Was old man in human city. Great statue fought Gumm Gumms. So who is right? Gunmar who say strong should rule weak? Or old man who use power to fight strong? Gunmar, who call Aaarrrgghh Gumm Gumm? Or old man, who call Aaarrrgghh Krubera?"

Toby huffed out a breath, realizing he'd been holding it. He'd heard Archimedes, Dr. Lake, and Jim talking about Aaarrrgghh - once Aarghaumont the Pitiless. Archimedes thought Aaarrrgghh was biding his time for Gunmar to return; Jim and Dr. Lake both seemed to think Aaarrrgghh was sincere, although were divided whether his claimed pacifism was also sincere, or a necessary agreement to keep people from linking him to the one-time general.

"What did you do?"

"Aaarrrgghh think - Gunmar have a throne, and tell Gumm Gumms they deserve only what he give them. Old man have a great warrior statue and tell people they deserve _safety_. Gunmar is wall - tell Aaarrrgghh where he can't go. Old man is floor - hold other people up."

Toby felt guilty, suddenly, for writing off Aaarrrgghh as sort of dumb. Or, well, not necessarily dumb.

But he hadn't thought too hard about Aaarrrgghh becoming a good guy, hadn't imagined Aaarrrgghh had somehow worked out he was a bad guy _on his own_.

"So not Gumm Gumm. Krubera. But not know what Krubera is. Not know who Aaarrrgghh is."

Aaarrrgghh looked so forlorn, Toby leaned in to hug him. It probably wasn't much; to a guy that size, Toby could barely get his arms around the smallest part of Aaarrrgghh. "It's okay, dude."

"I know. Have Blinky. Trollmarket. Mulder."

Toby narrowed his eyes, uncertain whether Aaarrrgghh was deliberately making a point or not. Given how Aaarrrgghh had worked things out himself, he might have been.

But whether he meant to or not, Aaarrrgghh had a point. Aaarrrgghh had been alone, and somehow found Blinky.

Toby...already had Nana. And Jim. And Dr. Lake.

"Do you think? You could help me get home, Aaarrrgghh? I'm...tired."

And Aaarrrgghh's face split into a smile, something that warmed Toby. He'd wanted someone who understood, hadn't he?

Which meant all in all...this was probably a pretty good day.

\---

Draal had, ever since he'd learned of them, wanted to be an Eclipse Knight. Had wanted to be like Angor Rot, who'd gone to Morgana, the Pale Lady, for help protecting his people from the Gumm Gumms, discovered _she_ stood behind Gunmar, and torn out her eye in fury.

His father had been among the first to join the Eclipse Knights, to follow Angor Rot in defending trollkind from the Gumm Gumms, and whatever might arise to threaten them. Had been among the first to craft his own phylactery.

And sometimes, Draal wondered if he'd ever really had a choice. Like, what if he'd wanted to work in a forge, or be an artist, or labor under Blinkous in his library?

He wouldn't have seen his father as much, he was certain. Not out of any malicious intent, but because so much of the time he'd had with his father was training, or trailing along on missions his father was technically not allowed to invite Draal to.

His father wouldn't have understood him as much, he thought. Would have seen this whelp who struggled with a body that didn't fit, and - seen a different problem, or not known his son well enough to give the support he had.

But when Draal's mind dwelled too deeply on those concerns, he would look at Aaarrrgghh, who had _truly_ had no choice, and know that-

If he wanted to walk away from this path, he could.

But he suspected, to do such a thing, he would have to be a very different person than he was.


	7. Everything You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever had a dream where you had everything you want? Has a dream like that ever been a nightmare?

**Camelot, AD 530**

Guenevere was sleeping alone, something that had become far too common ever since the war had started.

Something that would be much more common, now that Lancelot was dead. Arthur was shut away in some distant chamber, too grief-stricken to give or receive comfort. And Guenevere-

Slept fitfully, which is why the quiet rustle of cloth made her bolt awake.

For a moment, she was relieved to see a familiar shape-

But then her waking mind remembered Morgana wasn't a friend anymore.

"Do be quiet," Morgana said airily, and Guenevere found her call for help dying in her throat, even as Morgana sat on the edge of Guenevere's bed, as she had when she visited Guenevere in happier days.

She looked...tired. As worn as the rest of them. Guenevere had thought Morgana would be - happier, somehow. Doing what she wanted.

But instead, there was a woman, as old as the wind and mountains, as she liked to say, careworn lines around her eyes making her look truly old for the first time since Guenevere had met her. Her eyes, normally a bright green, were faded, dull.

"I'm sorry," Morgana said. "I didn't mean-" But then she shook her head with a bitter laugh. "Never mind. Apologizing for starting a war, as if I didn't expect people to die. As if the men you loved weren't going to be casualties along the way."

Guenevere felt an odd sort of tickle at the back of her mind. A thought, trying to get her attention.

"But I _do_ wish it could have been different. That your king hadn't forced my hand." She laughed, and this sound was high, hysterical; the silver hand that had replaced her left twitched beside her. "Oh, look at me, making jokes when one of your husbands just died." She sighed and looked over at Guenevere, and her eyes were sad; Guenevere would like to think she actually felt bad about it. "...Have you heard from Galahad?"

Guenevere felt a surge of fury. "You have no _right_ to ask about him!" The curse that had bound her tongue was gone, but Guenvere wasn't afraid of _Mora_. Even with the Shadowstaff and her vendetta against Arthur-

And _that_ was it.

She had said Arthur was a _casualty_. Which meant he wasn't her real target.

…

"It's Merlin, isn't it?"

"Hm?" Morgana tilted her head, like Raum would when he was curious.

" _That's_ what you're fighting this war for. To kill Merlin."

Morgana smiled. Weak, gentle. "You always were smart, Gwen."

"You're not here to apologize to me, are you?"

Morgana shook her head, smile giving way to a frown, but still, no malice. Just...sadness. "I just thought...you'd like to hear it...before everything."

She removed a cloth-wrapped object from her robes, and Guenevere had a moment of sick horror when she saw what was inside, and then-

\---

**The Present**

"Elijah?"

Eli paused at the front door and turned to his mother, giving her a weak smile.

"I'm just going to school, Mom."

She narrowed her eyes, an interminable moment of examination, before nodding. "Well, be safe. Come right home. And if _anything_ happens, call me and I'll come get you."

"Yes, Mom. I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, Elijah." She took a sudden step forward and pulled Eli into a hug. When she stepped back, her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. "I just want you to be safe, Elijah."

"I know, Mom. I'll see you later."

In another universe, Eli might have chafed against his mom's restrictions after revealing to her he'd been running around in his free time fighting evil trolls and genocidal humans. But, well, he'd been in _real danger_ when that amulet had cursed him into the form of a troll, and had been _lucky_ it'd worn off as quickly as it had, before anything really bad had happened to him.

And after interrogating Blinky for twenty minutes, she'd declared Eli could keep _talking_ to the trolls, as long as he kept himself out of their problems.

So Eli was trying to keep a low profile, avoiding Jim and Toby rather than risking getting dragged into something he couldn't in good conscience ignore.

This meant he spent more time around Darci, who was eager to have a chance not to talk about shadow magic and interdimensional travel, and Aja Tarron, who was on a personal quest to review every cat video on the internet, and thus unlikely to expose Eli to mortal danger.

The point is, Eli was _trying_ , and mostly succeeding, to avoid doing anything that would make his mother worry.

So he could be forgiven for not noticing what was going on earlier. In his defense, first period _was_ chemistry, and Mr. Kine was possibly the most boring person alive. So it was halfway through chemistry class, when Mr. Kine trailed off in the middle of explaining activation energy, that Eli noticed anything was wrong.

Because Eli's classmates were _not_ , as he would have expected, in lecture-induced comas. Mary Wang didn't respond when Eli poked her, and Mr. Kine didn't even look when Eli stood up. It was, he realized, looking across a room of still, silent students, incredibly creepy. He stepped up to Mr. Kine, closer than he would have dared if the man were reacting. And he could see why it had taken some time to notice. Mr. Kine's eyes weren't frozen or unseeing, but moving quickly, darting from place to place. As if he were dreaming.

Eli turned slowly, finding the rest of the class in a similar state, some slumped on their arms, others sitting rigid back against their chairs, but all of them clearly in waking dreams.

He slipped out of the classroom, where he found the school eerily silent, students resting against lockers or slumped on the floor, eyes open, watching whatever scene was playing for them. It would have been less creepy if they were crying or laughing, or - reacting at _all_ , but whatever his classmates, and teachers, saw, held them in their own soundless worlds,

Eli's hand was on his phone before he wrenched it away. It wasn't like he was in any _danger_ , and he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he called his mom to get him and left everyone here this way.

He needed to find Jim.

Jim was in English, where Ms. Janeth was slumped over her desk, hand twitching at irregular intervals. Jim was in a similar position, but his hand _was_ in his pocket - as if he'd been reaching for the Amulet of Daylight. Eli turned in place, using Jim's vantage point by the window to take in the room, trying to piece together what had happened. Jim had noticed something early enough to try to armor up, but not early enough to actually do so.

Which meant...what?

 _Eli_ hadn't noticed anything, which meant maybe it was something visible only to super Trollhunter senses. But given that Eli was fine while _Jim_ was trapped meant there was no idea to know who else might have escaped the effects of this...spell?

So Eli patted Jim's shoulder. "I'm gonna figure this thing out, so...just hold on."

He hoped that whatever was going on with everyone wasn't too unpleasant.

\---

"I'm home!" There was a delighted cry and the scurrying of feet, and then Enrique appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Claire!" He scrambled down the stairs, still awkward in his movements; she waited patiently until he reached the ground floor and ran to her.

She grabbed him in a tight hug. "Did you have a good day, hermanito?"

"Yeah! We did the alphabet!"

"Oh? Then can you spell Enrique?"

"Uh." Enrique scrunched up his face. "E...um." He flushed, ducking his head away from Claire. "We didn't do that yet."

Claire smiled at him. "That's alright. I'll give you a head start, then. You were right - 'E' is first. Then 'n' - that's right at the beginning of your name, right?"

Enrique nodded fervently.

"And then what letter goes 'ri'?"

"R!"

"Then it's an 'i' - that's how you get that 'eee' sound. And a 'q' - do you remember 'q'?"

"Mhm."

Claire grinned and swung Enrique along as she went to the living room, dropping him on the couch. "And _this_ is a secret you won't learn for a while. If there's a 'q' - in English or Spanish - there's going to be a 'u' next."

Enrique nodded, awed at the promise of a secret.

"And then another 'e' at the end. And that's Enrique!"

Enrique grinned. "And what about Claire?"

"Well, that's a 'C', and an 'l'-"

"Who's Rico, Claire?"

Claire shivered at the question. "Who's-"

"I hear you crying at night," Enrique said, matter-of-fact. "About Rico."

"I - he's someone I miss a lot."

But that wasn't right. Rico was living in Claire's house, pretending to be her little brother. She was trying to get to the Darklands to rescue him. If Enrique was _here_ , she'd _succeeded_ , but-

She stumbled, as if struck, at the realization. Enrique was Rico's _familiar_ \- he could disguise himself as a human only so long as Enrique was in the Nursery. And if he couldn't disguise himself as a human…

"You missed me a lot when _I_ was gone. Are you going to leave to find him?"

"I-" Claire looked back at Enrique, but he wasn't there. She looked to her other side, and there was Rico, grinning wide, as large as Enrique had been. "I thought-"

"You alright, Sis?"

Claire shook her head. "You were...Enrique."

"Heh, still worried about him? He's fine, you know - I'm living proof. And I'm loads cooler than him, right?"

"He's my baby brother-"

"And I'm not?"

"You're-" Claire shook her head, tears gathering at her eyes. Rico wasn't her brother, not really, but he was familiar and - something like a friend. _Losing_ him, even if it meant getting Enrique back…

"Who's it gonna be, Sis?"

"Do you wish Rico were here, instead of me?"

" _I don't know_!"

\---

"Hey, Tobes?"

Toby paused at the door to his and Jim's apartment, looking back toward the interior. "Yeah?"

"You'll be careful, right?"

Toby chuckled. "Of _course_ , dude! Eli got these awesome, like, military-grade knee and shoulder pads, and you _know_ Draal's got that thing you hate - the gem that soaks up damage his friends take?"

"Yeah, but you'll be _careful_ , right?"

"Yeah," Toby repeated, more gently. "Not gonna take any risks. Besides, anyone tries to get too close, I just gotta - you know - _hop_."

Jim chuckled. "You're a regular X-Man, Tobes."

Toby flexed, though it was just him in the front hall. "Black Hole, the all-loving hero with the power of gravity."

Jim rolled into the front hall, swinging his chair around as he smirked at Toby's pose. "All-loving's a bit of a stretch; I've _seen_ what happens when people cross you."

"Well." Toby leaned down to hug Jim, accepting the gentle squeeze he got in exchange. "I'll text if we run into trouble or look like we're gonna be long. Were you gonna run errands or something?"

"No, just hanging around the house," Jim replied with a shrug. "If you're alive tomorrow, I was gonna catch the farmer's market, see what shit's out there."

Toby couldn't hold back a grin. "Maybe check out a certain bakery's booth? See a certain Mr. Ngozi?"

Jim didn't rise to the bait. "If we happen to need bread for dinner, I might stop by the baker's. _Until then_ , you've got supernatural evil to fight."

"Yeah, yeah," Toby replied, "For the glory of everyone, let's go kick ass."

Toby'd had dreams like this before, Jim somewhere _safe_ while Toby fought evil, keeping his best friend from having to risk his life every day. But Jim had always been - healthy, whole, in those dreams.

They'd been fantasies, Toby realized, things that could never happen.

Jim wouldn't stop wearing the armor, wouldn't stop going out to fight the enemies of humanity and trollkind, unless he _couldn't_.

\---

"James, it's time."

Jim looked up from his desk. Archimedes' perch was set on it so he would be at eye level if he were sitting up; because Jim had been laying his head down, Archimedes was higher than him, almost looming.

He removed the Amulet of Daylight from his pocket, and pressed it so it unfolded like a flower to reveal the depressions within. And then he opened his desk drawer, and the velvet box within, where some twenty gleaming gems rested. Jim removed six of them, carefully, and set them within the amulet.

When he snapped it closed, the amulet glowed with a sullen red light; he hated the color, but it was necessary for the power the Amulet received from this set of gems. The power he needed to defeat Gunmar.

"James."

"I _know_ ," Jim snapped. He pushed himself up from his desk and turned to the door. He paused, looked back at Archimedes. The owl looked smaller than he usually did. "I - you've been a lot of help, Archimedes. If I don't - I just wanted you to know."

Jim tried to move quietly, but when he reached the ground floor, his mother was waiting for him, sitting on the couch in the front room.

"Mom!"

She didn't move, just carefully traced her finger along the edge of the mug sitting in front of her. "Jim."

"I-"

"Toby said you were still working on a plan to take out Gunmar."

Jim felt a hitch in his chest, looking away rather than meeting his mother's eyes. "We were, but - Archimedes said…" He shrugged. "Too many people have gotten hurt already. Trying to fight _my_ battles."

"Jim." Jim's mom stood, crossed to him, and pulled him into a tight hug. "Jim, we're not fighting your battles, we're fighting - to keep you safe. To protect _you_."

Jim shoved back, feeling the tears prickling at his eyes at his mom's surprised grunt. "Then maybe I don't want you to do that anymore. I need - to do this on my own."

"Jim, you _don't_ have to - you have me, Toby, Draal - people who are willing - who _want_ to help you. Who want to _be there_ with you!"

Jim took a deep breath, before shaking his head. "Thanks, Mom, but...I can't."

"Jim," Jim's mom repeated, sounding pained.

Hurt.

But Jim couldn't let her endanger herself, not for _him_. So he pushed past his mom, gently, and walked to the front door.

"I've got to go."

Jim had spent years trying to ensure he ended up nothing like his father.

But somehow, here he was, leaving his mom behind crying, just like his father had.

\---

Mary had always been good at reading people; she'd joked for years that she was psychic.

There'd never been anything to that, really. She watched people, listened to people, and _learned_.

But today…

She could hear them. A torrent of thoughts, fearful whimpers, tearful cries, desperate misery.

Everywhere.

 _Everyone_.

\---

Eli was beginning to panic - he'd scoured over half the school and seen _nobody_ who wasn't trapped in some weird trance.

As he approached the principal's office, it began to occur to occur to him that _he_ might be the one in a trance, or, god, maybe some sort of coma. He resolved if he didn't figure out things in the next twenty minutes, he'd try pinching or hitting himself to wake out of the dream.

But then he saw motion along the hall. Eli darted after it, just barely catching sight of it several times before he came to Mr. Strickler's office.

And that was...worrying. Because he'd never resolved the question of whether Mr. Strickler was a changeling, and thinking on _that_ , this weird trance the rest of the school was in took on new significance.

Eli approached the office door cautiously, low to the ground, uncertain what he would find.

What he did...was not what he was expecting.

"You!" Mr. Strickler was sitting, stock-still, at his desk, but behind him was the man, the weird bearded man who'd tried to kidnap Eli when he'd been exposed as a changeling. He had Mr. Strickler's pen in one hand, unscrewed to reveal a complex set of metal protrusions-

Like a key.

The changeling narrowed his eyes. "I _suspected_ there was more to you than met the eye. A child your age should not have access to magic such as a gaggletack, much less _whatever_ is protecting you from the Black Heart."

Eli knew from basically every book and cartoon he'd watched that _asking_ what the Black Heart was wouldn't get him anywhere. Pretending he knew what was going on might get him enough hints to piece it all together.

Eli shrugged. "My mom always said you can't be too careful. She _also_ said you shouldn't sneak into people's offices when they're asleep."

"Asleep? An inelegant way to describe Stricklander's current state." The changeling turned to the bookcase behind Mr. Strickler's desk, reaching out with the pen-key.

"Step away from what I am assuming is the door to a secret room!"

The changeling paused, looked back at Eli, and sneered at him, a sharp expression that carried a hint of fang. "Whatever protections you have from the Nightmare King's magic, it won't protect you from _me_ , and no police will be able to protect you here." He flicked out his free hand, where fingernails lengthened and sharpened to three-inch-long claws.

Which yeah, was _threatening_ , but Eli knew more than he had a minute earlier, and, more importantly, knew what the changeling _wanted_ \- whatever was behind Mr. Strickler's desk.

So Eli lobbed his backpack at the changeling. The man flinched, hands up, and dropped the pen. Eli was diving already, scrabbling as the changeling struggled with the straps of Eli's backpack. And then Eli was gone, slamming the door behind him. He had no more than a moment to choose a direction, so, working on instinct, Eli ran toward the auditorium.

He didn't have more than a few seconds before Mr. Strickler's door burst open. A bestial snarl filled the hall, loud enough it should have woken the whole school, except for being under the influence of the Black Heart. Eli didn't waste time looking back, because he did _not intend to fight this_.

He instead tried to figure out what he was planning to do now that he had an enraged changeling chasing him. There was a good chance if he broke whatever spell the changeling had placed on the school everyone would wake up...well, eventually. Eli ducked into the cafeteria, weaving between the tables to take the far exit that should drop him right near the auditorium, where-

Well, he was used to that being a safe place. It clearly wouldn't help being chased by-

He caught a flash of a spiked limb, and baleful yellow eyes.

So he needed a plan. Or an idea.

To keep an entire building of people incapacitated, an item with a persistent effect was much preferable to a spell, which could have a variable duration, one based on the individual's resistance, but that left a glaring weakness - there would be an item somewhere that could be disrupted, freeing everyone from its control. 

Eli skidded into the auditorium, glancing around hurriedly for something-

The changeling wrenched the doors open; Eli darted out of one of the side doors and paused, trying to orient himself.

Jim had seen the effects before they'd reached him. Whatever this was hadn't been immediate, hadn't taken everyone at the same time. Jim had been...sitting by the window. What would affect someone by the window after someone else in the room?

 _The air vents_!

Eli turned toward the gym, where he knew the machinery room to be, just as the changeling, now more compact, more focused, still with as many teeth, burst into the hallway (they were a Polymorph, Eli noted distantly, capable of taking _any_ shape. Not ideal). Eli had nothing in his hands to throw, just-

Eli kicked open the door to the girls' bathroom and hurled his house key inside before continuing down the hall. The Polymorph paused, shifted into the form of Miss Janeth and pushed his way inside, because he didn't care about _Eli_ , and couldn't take the risk Eli _hadn't_ thrown Mr. Strickler's key into the girls' room to escape with his life.

It bought him ten, twenty seconds, which was enough, thankfully, to reach the machinery room, where, yes, sitting just inside the vents of the air circulator was a heart carved out of quartz - not a Valentine's heart, but like, a human heart. A black fluid pulsed through the heart to a slow beat, as if it were a living thing.

And Eli had no time to think on it, to think of other ways to deal with it. He grabbed the heart, raised it over his head, and threw it at the ground as hard as he could, just as the changeling burst into the room.

"No!" the changeling screamed. The heart shattered, and for a moment, everything was still; the fluid in the heart proved to be smoke, poised in the shape of the heart's interior.

A sound like a billion voices screaming in unison, discordant and deafening, sent Eli to his knees, as the smoke exploded upward, through the vents and, he presumed, out of the school. Because there were confused noises outside, a few distant shouts, and the changeling paused, scowled at Eli.

"You think you've won," he snapped, "but you don't even _know_ what you've done. And we won't forget you." He slipped out the door, and when Eli wrenched it open to follow, he couldn't pick the Polymorph out among the students chattering to each other, confused, or lifting themselves from the ground.

Which, yeah, was a problem, but Eli had a more important concern.

Mr. Strickler was massaging his head when Eli knocked and slipped into the room.

"Um, sir?"

Mr. Strickler looked up sharply, narrowing his eyes when he saw Eli. "Mr. Pepperjack."

"I, um...found your pen." Eli stepped forward and placed the half-pen, with the key set within it, on Mr. Strickler's desk.

"How-" Mr. Strickler grabbed at his pocket, frowning when he found only half of the pen there. He picked up the key portion and snapped them together neatly, precisely before looking back at Eli. After a moment, his look of suspicion softened, and he tilted his head at Eli, concerned. "Are you...alright?"

"To be honest, sir, no. I've just been chased through the school by a monster I found trying to get at something behind your desk."

"A - monster?" Mr. Strickler scrambled to his feet in a sudden flash. "Is James - is everyone else alright?"

 _James_. Jim Lake.

"He's fine, sir. But I think maybe I deserve some answers. I'd like to know I wasn't protecting something that's going to get me and my friends hurt."

Mr. Strickler smiled, shaking his head. "Mr. Pepperjack, I am a _teacher_ -"

"But you're also a changeling." It wasn't a shot in the dark, but it wasn't entirely certain either, and Eli _hated_ making guesses like that. "And Jim's got a friend who's a changeling, so that doesn't make you a bad guy. But it _does_ mean you've been hiding something from him."

Mr. Strickler sat, slowly, setting his hands on his desk. He looked tired, suddenly, smiling almost sadly. "I suppose it would be...difficult to keep this up in light of...everything. Yes, I _am_ a changeling. But you must believe me, Mr. Pepperjack, that I mean none of you any harm, and I would rather - I wish nothing more than to see Jim safe."

"Do you mean...because he's the Trollhunter?"

"No. Because he is _Jim_."

\---

Steve went straight from the front door to his room, where he collapsed on his bed, pulled his legs up close to him, and tried not to sob.

This...had not been a good day.

Today was supposed to be a _big_ day - Steve was graduating to live targets at the Order of Dawn firing range, to get him used to hunting something that wasn't just a bulls-eye. Though the guys had been joking that shooting gnomes, with their bright red hats, wasn't much harder.

But the weird - dream or hallucination Steve had had at school (the cops were certain it was some sort of gas leak, as if anyone who knew anything didn't know it was magic) had left him shaken.

And when he'd lined up his rifle and caught one of the gnomes in his sights, he'd remembered-

It hadn't been a frightening dream. It had been a _good_ one. The Order of Dawn had won their war, finally gotten rid of the monsters that haunted it.

Just…

When Steve had heard Eli _Pepperjack's_ voice coming from the troll - the changeling - he'd caught near the canals, he'd hesitated. He hadn't dared tell anyone he'd had… _sympathy_ for one of them. That he hadn't been willing to condemn Pepperjack to death for the crime of, what?

Being _weird_. Different. _Probably_ queer as - as whatever really queer things were.

Being a _troll_ didn't make him any worse than he already was.

But it was more than that. Because Eli wasn't the only one who'd been dead. Toby, who'd been trying to help him, and James Lake, who was Toby's best friend. Darci Scott, who a quarter of the school thought was Eli's girlfriend (Pepperjack was queer, but then, Darci wasn't a real girl anyway, so it probably worked out).

People whose only crime was having sympathy for monsters would end up dying, and…

And it had left Steve reeling. With a gnome in his sights, he hadn't been able to pull the trigger, and while he was _used_ to the tirade that followed, he hadn't heard it in a while. A real man would have been able to do it. Steve was weak, had no moral fiber, no sense of responsibility. He wasn't going to amount to anything, not the way he was.

And he was certain he wasn't.

He couldn't be a part of the Order of Dawn if he couldn't commit. If he couldn't accept the sacrifices that came with their goal.

Which...was killing _monsters_. Anyone who wasn't on board with that was...the enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take a moment to talk about Steve up there. Steve is a bully and a jerk, and what I write getting inside his head is how I imagine a bully and a jerk to think. With the exception of the concern that genocide might be wrong, his thoughts and opinions are generally not coming from a good place, and should not be taken as a reflection of any of my feelings about the world.


	8. Mind the Gap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire makes an unexpected stop on her way to rescue Enrique.

**AD 503, Camelot**

Raum hopped forward and snatched the pastry from Guenevere’s hand, ignoring her delighted laughter as he devoured it. The joke was on her - _she_ was short one pastry, which was now Raum’s.

“Come now, surely you can tell me what you are, if you are not Mora’s pet.”

Raum fluttered his wings, feeling a little anxious. He had been granted great knowledge, and was prone to odd prophetic flashes, but had been given leave to hold his tongue so long as a creature was not asking the one question to which they were entitled a true answer.

This was not a question. Guenevere was clever that way; on learning from Morgana that Raum would answer one question truthfully, she had clearly decided to hoard it until such time as truth was what she needed.

So he was free to answer this as he pleased.

And...Morgana liked Guenevere, so he decided on the truth.

“I’m her _familiar_. It’s an easy way for a sorcerer to increase their power.”

Guenevere tilted her head, paying close attention, and Raum, not used to just being allowed to talk, plowed on.

“By naming a creature of magic, like a demon bound in flesh, or some other magical beast without one, a sorcerer forges a bond that will linger until death. The sorcerer can draw on the familiar’s magic and vice versa. So Morgana can use my prophetic powers, open doors, kill kings, probably...and I can use her power to cast my own magic.”

“Archimedes is Merlin’s familiar.”

Raum shrugged. “Probably. Old coot doesn’t like having a weakness, but he _does_ like power.”

“Hm.”

There was a flurry of motion, and two boys, both with dark hair, one pale and one dark, each of their paternity quite unmistakable, appeared. Both ran into Guenevere’s legs, hugging tight as she laughed.

“Hello, my darlings. I thought you were with Mora.”

“Mama said she had-“ The dark boy scowled in concentration as he struggled with an unfamiliar word, “Arcana to do.”

“She said Raum could watch us!” the pale one declared. Raum ruffled his feathers and sent an inquiry along the bond that tied him to Morgana. And he felt it, not an answer, but a command.

A sorcerer could do that, too. Set a command that a familiar would do all in their power to obey. Raum had heard of familiars who had clung to life and consciousness long after their masters had died, fueled by the need to see their commands followed.

 _ **Keep them safe**_.

—-

**The Present**

Claire, seated cross-legged on her bed, stared at the Skathe-Hrün. Fully extended, the power of darkness - not _evil_ , just darkness - flickered within the crystalline depths. Morgana, the ancient sorceress who had opposed Merlin, had bound within it three gems to amplify the magic of anyone who wielded it.

The Shadow’s Eye, to control shadows. Rico said _she_ had once used it to blot out the sun.

The Dragon’s Tear, to create portals. Morgana had used it to step across the world in an instant. With enough power, enough talent, it could be used to step _between_ worlds.

Fiend’s Blood, good for curses. If the bearer spilled their blood on the staff, they could enact _terrible_ vengeance upon their enemies. One could survive what might otherwise be a death curse, and if one expended their life…

The Skathe-Hrün could do almost _anything_.

"How much longer are you going to just stare at it?" Mary asked.

Darci shoved her. "She needs to concentrate or we're going to get splinched or _worse_ when we go to the Darklands."

Mary scoffed. "She's not concentrating, she's just spacing." She waved her hand in front of Claire's eyes; she swatted the hand away, but fell back on her bed with a sigh.

"Mary's right. I'm just going around in circles."

"Maybe this isn't the best idea."

Claire glared at Rico, who was perched on her desk. "You don't _have_ to go."

"Yeah, and let the only person in this house who knows I like cheeseburgers die? No way. Anyway, if you wanted to sit around _thinking_ about magic, you should have been studying rune magic."

And Rico may have been simplifying things, but at the end of the day, shadow magic was about _feeling_. If you knew how to do it, and wanted it badly enough, you could do it.

And there wasn't _anything_ Claire wanted more than getting her baby brother back.

So she laid her hand on the Skathe-Hrün and closed her eyes, imagined Enrique as she'd last seen him, sleeping sweetly, smiling to himself. Focused on how much she wanted - _needed_ \- to see him again, rather than leaving him trapped in the Darklands for eternity.

And she felt it, shadow magic rising up from within the Shadowstaff, wrapping around her-

 _Not_ , she realized, around her friends, around Rico, and Claire felt a flare of panic.

When she'd used the Shadowstaff to travel home from Gatto's Keep, shadows had blurred the world around her, traveling between spaces without any apparent movement. Now…

It was like falling through a window, the space around her shattering, a feeling like ice slicing her to the bone. Claire screamed, but in a moment, the sound was swallowed up as she fell into a dark world.

A world that, despite being absent of light, was full of shadows - shadows twisting and entwining as she tumbled through the infinite darkness… **empty-handed**.

" _Fuck_."

\---

Darci held out her hands. "Okay, first step, everyone take a deep breath."

"Deep breath? Did you see what happened to her?"

"No," Rico groaned. "I had my eyes closed. I _knew_ something like this would happen, but Claire gave me those doe eyes. 'Oh, I can't leave my sweet baby brother on his own for a single second'. Didn't even _care_ the goblins are taking care of him."

Darci grabbed him by the scruff; he struggled for a moment before settling for a glare at her, folding his arms. 

Mary had stopped hyperventilating, at least, but she kept shooting the Shadowstaff worried looks, as if it might spontaneously drag one of _them_ to who-knows-where.

Which, point. "Okay, first off. Rico, do you have _any idea_ what happened?"

He shook his head. "Could be anything, really. Lack of focus, not feeling it strong enough-"

" _Did the Shadowstaff do this_?"

Rico turned and squinted at the staff, frowning. " _Probably_ not. It's technically Morgana's, but she really doesn't get up to much nowadays, being dead and all."

"So we can leave it where it is?"

Rico shrugged. "Yeah."

"Good." Darci dragged Mary to the chair next to Claire's desk and sat her down. "Second thing. Is there any way we can figure out where she is?"

"Hm." Rico clambered up to the mirror, made an unpleasant sound with his throat and spat at it.

"Gross!" Mary snapped, lunging back and tipping over her chair. In helping Mary back up, Darci didn't see the mirror for a few moments, at which point she-

Paused.

"What _is_ that?"

"The Nursery," Rico replied. "That in _particular_ is Enrique. Figured we could see if Claire hopped right there without any, you know, stopovers."

"She's not there."

"No." Rico swiped the spit from the mirror, made to wipe it on Claire's desk, instead hunching guiltily and taking the tissue Mary handed him.

"So. Thoughts?"

" _I_ don't know. I'm a spy, not a wizard."

Darci huffed.

"We could ask Jim Lake?"

Darci shook her head and counted off on her fingers. "One, having a magic amulet doesn't make him an expert on magic. Two, the people he knows who _do_ know about magic aren't keen on the idea of us going to the Darklands. And three, Claire would never forgive us if we went to _Lake_ for help."

"So...Eli?"

The explanation, and subsequent questions of 'where is Claire' and 'how can we get her back more or less in one piece', sent Eli into a flurry of excited chatter. Darci had to literally cover Mary's mouth to keep her from talking, because interrupting Eli's train of thought…

Well, it wouldn't stop him from getting the right answer, but it _would_ hurt his feelings.

If he'd actually been there, instead of on speaker phone, Mary might have been harder to restrain, because his absent pacing and hand-waving _could_ get a little distracting.

"The Darklands isn't a subject a lot of human scholars know about. The problem is the Shadow Realm - the space between worlds. With the right magic, you could technically travel to alternate realities, or worlds so different from ours we couldn't survive there. There hasn't been very much written about _that_ , either. Frankly, _trolls_ don't know much about the Darklands, either. Well, the ones living here. I bet the Gumm Gumms know more about it than they want to, huh? Blinky's books call it a reflection of the real world, but that was speculation, or, really, guessing, at that point. He's pretty sure his brother went there at some point; he actually knew Tiffany the E'er-Prepared, who made the portal she threw the Gumm Gumm's through."

"Do you think Claire's in the Darklands? Or an alternate reality?"

"Neither. I _think_ she might have ended up in the Shadow Realm. Look, it took a major working of rune and shadow magic, at least, to create a portal to the Darklands. If you could get there with shadow magic alone, which sometimes is _basically_ like wishing, I bet Tiffany wouldn't have bothered with the whole bridge thing. Besides, with this sort of magical undertaking, being distracted, even for a second, could have thrown a wrench in the whole thing."

"Um, excuse me, Claire's been, like, hyper-focused on getting her brother back since she found out he'd been kidnapped," Mary retorted.

Which was true, but also… _wasn't_. Darci glowered at Rico, who Claire had disclosed to Darci and Mary she'd been growing...sort of fond of. But more than that…

"Claire's been terrified she might not be able to get him back."

" _Exactly_. That fear - _oh_. Oh fuck."

Mary's head jerked up, and Darci felt a twist in her stomach. _Nothing_ good could come of the word 'fuck' said in _that_ tone of voice. "Eli?"

"Oh, _fuck_ , I've been reading up about this because - you guys remember the day there was a gas leak at school?"

"It wasn't a gas leak," Darci guessed. Obviously, she'd _suspected_ ; the sort of weird hallucinations she'd had, were too cogent, coherent, to be just oxygen deprivation.

"It was the effects of this weird artifact called the Black Heart, which I've been looking into, and it is _bad mojo_. It's been floating around since the - well, the Dark Ages, and said to be the heart of the King of Nightmares."

"What does that have to do with Claire?"

"Shadow magic is emotion-based - Claire was betting on using her love for Enrique to get to him in the Darklands. Some practitioners of the art believe there are sorcerers, or spirits, or gods, that embody the power of individual emotions. Love, hatred, happiness-"

"Fear," Mary concluded. "So what does that have to do with Claire?"

"The Shadow Realm is a place devoid of logic and sense - a place of unconscious thought and dream. As a result, it's always been linked to the King of Nightmares. If Claire was distracted by her fear...it might have dragged her into the Shadow Realm instead of the Darklands."

Mary squeaked, but Darci had a more pressing concern. "Is...the Shadow Realm dangerous? Like, the Nightmare King sounds dangerous, but someone ripped his heart out, right?"

"Um."

"That isn't a good um," Mary whimpered. "I don't like that um."

"Look, that creepy changeling dude was using it to put everyone into nightmare comas! I didn't know what else to do!"

"What…"

" _Everyone_ who talks about the Black Heart seems pretty sure it's just a vessel to contain the King of Nightmares. So when I, um, destroyed it…"

"Oh."

Mary gave Darci a weak smile. "But this is Claire we're talking about. She wouldn't let a little thing like the King of Nightmares get her down."

\---

Claire had three theories about where she was, because from everything Rico had told her, this was _not_ the Darklands.

The first was that she was dead, possibly in Hell. Not unthinkable, given the risks to using shadow magic to teleport between points on the _same_ plane of existence. But there was a notable absence of inhabitants, human _or_ divine, that made that difficult to believe.

The second was that she'd been dropped into a completely random dimension. Also not unthinkable, but it was hard to imagine how she could have ended so far off target.

Especially given the _third_ possibility - that Claire was in the Shadow Realm. Shadow magic wasn't quantum, like light magic, where a spell either worked or didn't. Things could work halfway, or have partial effect. And when Claire's goal had been to enter the Shadow Realm, and then exit it into the Darklands, a _partial_ success could easily leave her stranded in the Shadow Realm.

…

She wished she'd spent as much time researching the Shadow Realm as she had the Darklands.

Because she'd been here...probably an hour, there wasn't an easy way back. Because she hadn't seen anyone in that time, no one _here_ was likely to be any help.

Because the only contents of the Shadow Realm appeared to be free-floating islands and an eclectic collection of items, things floating forlorn through the endless void, Claire was pessimistic about her access to tools she could use to escape.

Which made her assets: ten years of American public education, her native mastery of two languages, the results of relentless exposure to female-dominated media to bolster her self-esteem, a musical education that started in classic rock and was currently in pop punk, and a hurried education in the principles of shadow magic.

And it was all well and good that Claire's parents had tried to make her feel she could do anything, but that lesson had predisposed access to some sort of resources.

"Okay, that's self-defeating thinking, Nuñez," she muttered. "You're just overreacting because you're trapped in an endless void with no way out." She thought for a moment. "It's a good first step that there's air here - or I don't need to breathe." And a good second there that the floating islands meant she had somewhere to stand.

...Once she figured out how gravity worked.

\---

"For the last time, with no training _or_ practice, _neither_ of you are gonna work up the energy to get Claire back from the Shadow Realm," Rico snapped. "So let's leave the Skathe-Hrün alone." Crouched on Claire's bed, he snatched up the Shadowstaff, collapsing it in one hand. "So let's hear some brainstorming."

He sounded dismissive, but Mary could practically _feel_ the fear radiating from him. After all, he and Claire had been pretending to be brother and sister for months now, so _whatever_ he might say, he cared for her.

"The Killahead Bridge is a portal to the Darklands," Darci mused, "so even if we had it _and_ Jim, it wouldn't work. You said there was another way in and out of the Darklands, right, Rico?"

"Yeah, Fetches - but _I'm_ too big to fit through one of those, so Claire's fat ass doesn't have a _chance_."

"But the _Shadowstaff_ could fit through, couldn't it?"

Rico paused, and dropped down onto Claire's bed with a huff. "Yeah. But we got the same problem with the Killahead Bridge - the portal goes to the _Darklands_ , and I don't know enough about interdimensional travel to jury-rig them into a portal to the Shadow Realm."

"Hm." Mary began walking in a tight circle, thinking. Darci was fumbling for answers, her _reasonable_ ideas overruled by the weird way magic worked. Mary wished they could get Eli here; he knew more about magic than Rico, which meant he might be able to suggest improvements to Darci's ideas. But his mom didn't approve of him spending time involved in supernatural weirdness, so he could only help when he could do so outside her notice.

"Can Claire just zap herself home? Like, if she wants it badly enough?"

"Hm…" Rico scratched his chin as he turned to Mary. "Maybe. But a _lot_ of the power we were planning to use was coming from the Shadowstaff. What we _really_ need is someone with magic talent who cares enough about her to get her back."

"And I'm guessing none of us has that talent," Mary concluded.

"I doubt it. The chances of a human having that talent is like, one in a million, meaning the chances of there being _two_ sorcerers in Arcadia Oaks - or at least two _unrelated_ sorcerers - is basically zero."

Darci huffed. "So we're out of luck."

"Maybe not. What about _you_ , Rico?"

Rico perked up, ears flicking in surprise. "What?"

"You said the chances of an _unrelated_ sorcerer is zero," Mary explained. "But if Claire's got magic, Enrique might, too."

Rico slumped down. "Ugh. Not enough. If changelings could learn magic by replacing human sorcerers, we'd do that _all the time_."

"But if you _could_ use magic, you could do it, right? Care enough to get her back?"

Rico looked up at Mary, still slumped, his ears flipping back. "I mean, probably. You won't… _tell_ her, will you? I gotta reputation to maintain."

"My lips are sealed," Mary replied. "But we've got to get her _back_ , first."

\---

Gravity, it had turned out, was a matter of conviction, so Claire solved the problem of a place to sit relatively easily.

Getting out was clearly the difficult part. It wasn't just that there wasn't anything in the Shadow Realm - the absence of things, except those lost or abandoned there, was distressingly _present_. The fact that this world _wanted_ to be a void niggled at Claire's mind even as she tried to concentrate, to find some connection to drag her back home. Rico had been certain that this sort of transdimensional travel was impossible without the aid of the Skathe-Hrün, but he wasn't a sorcerer; Claire was.

Unfortunately, his assessment may have been accurate, as no amount of wishing, wanting, or focusing on the desire to be home with her friends and family, seemed enough to free Claire from the Shadow Realm.

She wasn't certain how long she spent sitting there, reaching with every mental muscle she could, trying to find a way out of this mess.

Before the worry she might never escape started growing in her mind.

There was something, like the hint of movement at the corner of her eyes, and when Claire looked, she saw nothing but the edges and protrusions of the island she sat on. She stared at it for a long moment, trying to figure out if the shadows were longer than they had been a moment ago.

If it were approaching something like night in the Shadow Realm...or if _something_ were making it darker.

"Hello?" Claire hated herself for the hesitancy of her voice, the tremor that suggested she were _scared_ , because there wasn't anything _here_ , nothing but herself.

Nothing she could _see_ , a quiet part of her mind whispered. Nothing she _knew_ to be frightened of.

But it was beginning to occur to her that places like this, well, _magical_ places like this, usually didn't get away with being _completely_ uninhabited; there was usually someone around to run the place, at least.

Who might run a place called the _Shadow Realm_ didn't bear thinking about.

Except now that she _had_ , it was pretty much all Claire could think about.

Who would _want_ to live here?

...The shadows were _definitely_ longer. Claire felt her chest tighten, her breath quicken, and scanned her surroundings, hopeful for some sign of what could be causing this. But she couldn't expect a predator haunting the Shadow Realm (oh, _why_ did that word have to cross her mind?) to be easy to see.

Was the air colder than it had been? She wasn't sure, only that the world around her seemed to be getting darker, more hostile, and there was nothing here she could fight.

She was helpless, just as she'd been when Rico had told her Enrique was trapped in another _world_ , beyond her reach. She scrubbed at her eyes, unwilling to acknowledge the gathering tears, because her childhood was a lie; she _couldn't_ do anything she put her mind to, not even keep her little brother safe.

She'd read a story, once, about people's stuffed animals fighting the monsters in the closets for their children. It had made her feel less foolish about still sleeping with a stuffed bunny. It made her feel less weak for wanting Suzie Snooze here with her. Less fragile for wanting someone, _anyone_ to help her.

But there wasn't. Rico hadn't been certain about this, worried they hadn't practiced enough, but Claire had waved off his concerns. She wanted to apologize to him. Wanted to hear him complain about getting dragged around by the scruff when he was being an ass. Wanted to _introduce him to some basic fashion sense_. 

Claire began laughing, her voice taking on a hysterical note as she found herself unable to stop. She was going to die here, without ever having told Rico she…

Loved him. He wasn't her little brother, not really, but it got harder to make the distinction every day that passed.

"Please," she whispered to the darkness. "I won't grab you by the scruff, no matter how annoying you are. I'll get you a billion cheeseburgers. I'll...stop calling you my fake brother. Just _**find me**_ , please."

\---

Darci and Mary were still arguing, which wasn't helping, but Rico understood how people got when they couldn't think of anything else they could do.

He was trying to figure out how he was going to survive the next decade without someone around who knew who he was - going by the name 'Enrique' all the time, instead of when there were people other than Claire around.

And then he felt it - a drive, a pull, and he snatched up the Skathe-Hrün.

Darci turned, eyes widening. "Rico? What are you-"

Mary was a little faster on the uptake, as she snapped, "Don't you _dare_ \- we can't lose _both_ -"

But Rico could sense the power in the Shadowstaff, power he'd known an hour ago he couldn't use, but he _had_ to find Claire, and in that there was no fear he _couldn't_ , just the certainty that he _would_ , and with that-

The world faded, and never quite came back, as Rico dropped lightly onto a rocky ground, surrounded by a dark and gloomy world.

Claire turned, eyes dull as they fell on him. 

There was a moment Rico thought she didn't recognize him, and then Claire lunged, grabbing Rico into a tight hug. "How did you _get_ here?"

Rico awkwardly waved the Skathe-Hrün. "Magic. How else?"

"Mag - you _ass_!" But Claire was laughing, and didn't let go of Rico even when she took the Shadowstaff from him. It was...nice, he was troll enough to admit. 

"Hey, uh, Claire? I got to thinking, when we thought you were lost forever in the Shadow Realm-"

"I love you too, Rico. Now let's blow this popsicle stand."

It was weird. He'd heard other changelings talk about their families' love, how it was sometimes constricting, realizing that love was conditional on them being the person those families thought they were. He'd never heard of a changeling who'd had their human sibling look at them - at the troll inside and tell them they loved them.

He didn't have a frame of reference for it, how it made him feel.

He clutched a little closer to Claire as she closed her eyes. She felt steady, calm, and Rico knew there wouldn't be any problems getting home.

And indeed, between one breath and the next, they were back in Claire's room; Mary screamed and launched herself at them, grabbing Claire into a tight hug and squashing Rico between them.

"Claire! We were so _worried_!"

" _You_? _I_ was worried!"

It took some time for all the hugging and crying to get done, but once they had, it was Darci who brought up the obvious question.

"We're not trying that again, are we?"

Claire set her jaw. "Not without knowing a _lot_ more about what we're getting into. But we _will_ rescue Enrique."

\---

"I'm beginning to think Tobias isn't _aware_ he's half-Akiridian." Aja was experimenting with human utensils, and was eating Cheerios with chopsticks. Krel wasn't certain what the point of the milk was at this point.

"And what makes you think that?"

"I asked him if he'd ever heard of Akiridia, and he said no."

"Aja! You can't _say_ things like that!"

Aja shrugged. "Why not? Everyone says I'm 'quirky'; I think they think I'm making it up."

Krel sighed. "Because we need to keep a low profile. I have seen a dozen movies with this _exact_ situation, and it _never_ ends well."

"So the CIA wants to dissect us. We have _royal Akiridian blood_."

"Which I would prefer not to see splattered all over the ground."

Aja huffed. "Well, it's too late not to mention Akiridia to Tobias. You'd think his mother would have told him about his heritage."

"Not if she were in danger." 

Aja glanced up at Krel, furrow to her human disguise's brows reflecting her confusion, the hint of worry. "You don't _really_ think she was assassinated, do you?"

"I'm not sure." Krel flipped his phone around so Aja could see his messages. "This fellow I met online-"

"You're telling _me_ to be careful about one of our _own subjects_ , and you're telling strange online boys about us?"

"I'm not telling him about _Akiridia_ , just about - aliens in general. I think the Skalria might have passed through here; humans have these building that look _just_ like Skalrian tombs."

Aja pouted. "But what about Laira?"

"The newspapers say she was on a cruise and drowned when it sank." 

And at _that_ , Aja perked up. "How would Laira _drown_?"

Krel gave her a sharp smile. "Exactly. So the question is: who, on a planet that no Akiridian had ever set foot on, decided Laira needed to die?"


	9. Renunciation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's...a lot of casual homophobia and homophobic language in this chapter. Because the sort of people using it are the sort of people who'd use it.

**Constantinople, AD 540**

Ravid would not normally have given shelter to the man. But his eyes were weary, and far older than his body, and the grateful smile when Ravid let him in told of a life full of cruelty.

The man settled at a table and nodded to Ravid when he brought him food, though spent some time staring at it, rather than eating. Ravid worried, a moment, that the man was dead, but then he moved, carefully taking bites. He sat at the table long enough that eventually Ravid joined him, intent on providing the man some company.

"From where do you hail?"

The man gave Ravid a sidelong look before shrugging. "Camelot."

Ravid shook his head. "I don't…"

The man laughed, a barking sound. "Has his dream died already? I am not surprised."

"Was it...a nice place? Camelot?"

"Was it? Once, yes." The man stared into his mug, a smile crossing his face. "My brothers and I spent many happy days there. Before…" His smile vanished, erased by a vicious scowl. "Now one of my brothers is dead, the other vanished somewhere I cannot follow, and I - I am left toiling to complete an impossible task, bound by the promise of a child."

Ravid had heard other men, those who had been to war, speak that way, of hopelessness and everything they'd lost. And maybe the man _was_ old enough to have lost that much, but it broke Ravid's heart to see it in his eyes.

"What would you say," the man said suddenly, "if I asked you to join in the fight against evil?"

"I would think you were a madman or a zealot."

The man laughed, quiet, bitter. "A madman...I suppose. Who else would spend twenty years trying to kill a witch he has no hope of ever besting?"

"Is that what you've been doing?"

"If it is, I've been doing it very badly. But then, I've been doing _everything_ badly." The man sighed, let his head drop. "Are there burdens you would give up, if you could? Even those you undertook willingly, believing you understood what they would mean?"

"Does this have to do with the witch?"

"What does it matter, if it has to do with the witch, or the wizard, or the owl? It's too much for any one man to shoulder."

The man passed away in his sleep that night, and a year later, Ravid was trying to kill a crow who had already claimed a quarter of the souls in Constantinople with an army of vermin he had at his command. He understood better, what the man had been saying, having taken on the man's burden, speaking to him in dreams, learning of the history of Camelot, and the witch Morgana.

Of how Gawain, one brother dead, another lost to him, had taken on the mantle of the Trollhunter at Merlin's behest, only to find the burden heavier than he had ever expected. To find the prospect of a lifetime fighting a wizard's battles for him much less appealing than it had ever been.

\---

**The Present**

Steve, hoodie tucked around his head, head ducked down, took a furtive look around before dismounting his Vespa and heading toward the Pepperjacks' front door. One more look around, he raised his hand to the doorbell, then paused.

Took a deep breath.

Reached out again.

"Come on, don't be a pussy," Steve hissed, and jabbed the doorbell hard. The bell rang, and he had a moment of panic. What if Eli wasn't home? Or if his mom took one look at Steve and told him to go? He'd bullied Eli for _years_ ; Eli's mom would be justified in not wanting Steve anywhere near her son.

Steve wasn't certain what he'd do then. He might have seen Domzalski helping Pepperjack, but that didn't mean he'd understand, that _Lake_ would understand.

Hell, he didn't know what Eli would do, but Pepperjack was…

Well, soft. Steve had made fun of him for it, but it was lucky that Eli was, because otherwise, Steve wouldn't believe it was possible Eli would listen to him.

Even knowing what Steve had done, _was_ doing.

The front door opened, and Steve was faced with a woman - dark-haired, small, like her son. She peered up at Steve, eyes suspicious, and he tried not to fidget under her gaze.

"Yes?"

"Is Pepp - Eli home?" 

"Who _are_ you?"

"I'm-" Steve didn't think he could believably claim to be a friend of Eli's. "Steve. From school."

Her stare was penetrating, and Steve worried if she knew _exactly_ who he was.

But at last she smiled, gentle. "Come in. Eli's just along this way."

Steve...had never really thought about what Pepperjack's house looked like. If pressed, he might have assumed it looked like his own. But it was smaller, and a little more rundown, and when Steve pushed open the door to Pepperjack's room, there were fewer games in there, a battered desk holding a blocky computer.

And at a desk in front of it, a skinny dark-haired boy who spun, yelping, as Steve closed the door behind him. His eyes widened, and he grabbed at something on the desk, but before he could, Steve stepped forward, hands out to the side.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Pepperjack." When Eli paused before reaching to his desk again, Steve let his hands drop. "I _swear_."

Eli let his own hand drop, but Steve was certain the other boy was ready to throw his calculus textbook at Steve if he tried anything.

Presuming he didn't have troll explosives in his room somewhere; Steve had heard _stories_ about those rocks, and wouldn't put it past the sort of troll who hung out with Eli to think keeping those around was a good idea.

"You're not here to get me to join your - your club, are you?"

Steve huffed, fighting down the first two or three responses that came to mind, both the automatic denial, insult, and fact that Eli being a _changeling_ meant he wouldn't be welcome at the Order of Dawn anyway. He carefully unclenched his hands and looked up at Eli, struggling for words. It shouldn't have been hard; Eli wasn't _threatening_. Even as a _troll_ , he'd basically been a twig.

"Look, Pepperjack, we're not friends-"

Pepperjack giggled, a high, hysterical sound, and Steve felt a flare of anger. " _What_?"

"Just - I _know_ we're not friends."

"Fine! I just...I need your _help_ , alright? Even though we're not friends and I'm pretty sure you hate my guts."

And _this_ was why this was hard. Steve didn't ask for help. He could bully a lot of people to _offer_ to help, _had_ gotten Eli to do a lot of his homework that way in the past. But Steve doubted he could do the same here. If Eli didn't want to help, _Steve_ was the one who was going to suffer.

"Steve? Are you...alright?"

" _God_ , no!" Unable to stand still, Steve began pacing in tight circles, hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly. "Look, you know - I _know_ you know - I've been - I joined-"

"The Order of Dawn."

"Yeah. And they…" Faced with Eli, Steve found the words sticking in his throat, the same way the thought of it had caused him to falter every time he'd had to choose between...doing what the Order wanted, and… _not_.

"They want to _kill_ all trolls. Good, bad, _whatever_."

" _Exterminate_ ," Steve said, earning a startled glance from Eli. He wasn't certain what the appropriate response to that would be, so just shrugged. He'd heard the word so much that when Mr. Strickler had used it in class it'd been a shock not to hear him talking about trolls.

"I don't want to hurt you, Steve," Eli _growled_ , and for all Steve had been thinking Eli wasn't dangerous...well, everyone had a breaking point, and what the Order of Dawn did seemed to be Eli's.

"I don't...either," Steve ground out, and when he risked a look at Eli, the other boy was...well, he didn't know if skeptical was the right emotion to call that narrow look, but at least it wasn't outright threatening. "Look, I got attacked by this freaky dragon thing-"

"Dragons aren't real," Eli said, almost absent-mindedly, but Steve had built up this moment in his head, tried to figure out how to explain this without making himself seem like the bad guy or, worse, a _wuss_.

"And I freaked out and couldn't find answers. And this guy online-"

"Bad idea."

" _This guy online_ , told me about monsters and about people who help protect people from monsters, and me and - my mom's boyfriend met this guy Winston _in public_ to check him out, and _he_ thought Winston was okay. And I was learning shit about magic and junk, preparing for when I'd get to hunt, kill, _real_ monsters, and then-"

Steve stuttered to a halt, gave Eli a hesitant look. "And then it turned out _you're_ a monster."

"I'm not, really. There was this cursed amulet-"

" _It wouldn't have made a difference_!" Steve snapped. "And yeah, you're weird and an absolute pussy, but…"

"You've threatened to pound me so hard I'd have to eat through a straw, Steve."

Steve had threatened to do worse; he probably _had_ made a threat on Eli's life, sometime in their history. "I never thought...you were _scared_ of me."

"I've been scared of you a _lot_ , Steve."

Not now, though, Steve could see. He wondered what being around trolls had done to Eli, to leave him sitting, calmly, while his bully stalked around trying to explain how he'd fallen in with a bunch of guys who wanted to kill a bunch of (mostly) innocent people. "But not...for your life."

Eli shook his head, a small motion, and Steve felt a flush of relief. Part of what had driven him here was the certainty that there was a _difference_ between him and the Order of Dawn.

"I convinced myself it wasn't fair, getting you killed when you couldn't fight back, that you weren't even really a threat, like the rest of them, and - and…" Steve felt weary, suddenly, and sat down, leaning against Eli's bed. He _still_ had nightmares about the day when everyone at school had fallen into a collective coma. When Steve had dreamed of the world the Order of Dawn wanted to create.

"We've been - doing target practice on these little - these things that look like garden gnomes. And a bunch of these gremlin things. I've got _good aim_ , but-" And it wasn't shameful, it wasn't _weak_ , because Steve knew now they _weren't good guys_. Steve's dad would say differently, but he wasn't here to do so. "I kept missing. I was _doubting myself_ , and then in history today-"

Steve broke off, because it had been, like, a trigger or something, hearing Strickler describe the Order of Dawn almost exactly, how they worked, how they talked.

How the world was _infested_ with _vermin_. Animals. That needed to be _exterminated_.

"I think they might be - not - _right_."

"They're Nazis, Steve. Of _course_ they're not right."

"They're not-" The retort died before Steve could complete it, because why had he come here, except for the realization that the Order of Dawn sounded like the settlers wiping out Native Americans, the KKK, Hitler, any number of a thousand genocides scattered across history? "They _can't_ be. We got rid of the Nazis; there was a whole _war_ about it."

Eli sighed, raised a finger, let it drop. "Well, they aren't Nazis, _exactly_. Their founder worked with the Nazis to hunt...undesirables. And after the war, they sort of...went underground." He sighed again. "Why are you _here_? Do you need someone to tell you these guys are Nazis and bad news? _They're Nazis and they're bad news_."

Steve fisted his hands at his side, against the floor, finding he couldn't quite look up at Eli. "I need to do something about it, Pepperjack. I can't just let them - be out there. They're gonna _hurt_ people, _kill_ them."

There was motion near him; Steve flinched, but it was just Eli squatting next to him. "I get the feeling, Steve. I _do_. I'm _Jewish_ ; this is like, a nightmare, thinking about dudes like that wandering around town. But we can't - they've been around for 70 years. You're not going to bring down the whole Order of Dawn in one night."

"Yeah, but...I've got a key to their Los Angeles office."

Eli grinned, a wide, almost _delighted_ expression, and hopped up onto his feet. "What are you talking about? A little vandalism?"

Steve shook his head. "I told you about the - the gnomes, and the goblins. They've got them in cages, so they can-" He made a finger-gun, wincing when he saw Eli's elation fade, shoulders dropping. And then Eli's eyes sharpened, and his hands folded into fists. His frown was toothy, and whether Eli was actually a troll or not, Steve was almost certain he was going to snarl.

“So. A rescue mission. We’re going to have to lie to my mom. You okay with that?”

“I’ve been lying to _my_ mom about what the Order of Dawn actually _does_. I’ll be fine.”

“Good. We’re going.”

“ _Now_?”

Eli shrugged, but his whole body was tense, like he was going to haul off and hit someone. It wasn’t _certain_ that person would be Steve if he tried to stop Eli, but Steve wasn’t in the mood to find out.

“Okay. What’s the story?”

“What else? Studying. You need help with math, right?”

“I do _fine_!” Steve snapped.

Eli gave him an even, considering look, before shrugging. “Well, we’re making up a story anyway?”

“Sure,” Steve replied, but followed Eli only sullenly. He knew he wasn’t, like, smart, and _hated_ math homework, but he could do _fine_ on his own.

Well.

Eli couldn’t help thinking Steve was stupid, joining a Neo-Nazi militia without noticing.

“Hey, mom, Steve wanted me to help him with some history homework. Can we head over to his place?”

Eli’s mom fixed them both with a piercing stare. Steve tried not to fidget, but also uncertain about what Mrs. Pepperjack was looking for.

“He’s not a friend of your Mr. Blinky, is he?”

Eli shook his head. “Definitely not.”

She gave Steve another sharp look, so he tried smiling.

“We might grab some pizza after if that’s okay. I’ll get plenty of vegetables on it, I promise.”

And at that, Mrs. Pepperjack smiled. “Alright. Be home by 10.”

“Thanks, mom!”

Only when they got to his Vespa did Steve realize he only had one helmet. With Mrs. Pepperjack undoubtedly watching from the window, Steve handed the helmet over.

“If your mom sees you on this without a helmet she’ll chase us down on foot.”

Eli chuckled. “Yeah, she would.” He pulled the helmet on, and clambered aboard after Steve before pausing. “Um.”

“What? Grab on, Pepperjack.”

“I just - I have to hold on, and-“

“Yeah, as long as you don’t actually _grope_ me, I’ll survive. Unless you _can’t_ actually help yourself, at which point I’m switching gym periods.”

Eli huffed. “It’s _fine_.” He leaned in and wrapped his arms around Steve, grip tightening when Steve started up and pulled out of the Pepperjacks’ driveway. And it wasn’t _ideal_ ; among other things, riding to commit environmental terrorism (was it counter-terrorism if you were fighting Nazis?) on a Vespa was not badass. And it was uncomfortable having someone squashed up against him.

But Steve had made his choice, and putting up with Eli riding behind him on the Vespa was one of those consequences.

He knew the route to the Order of Dawn LA headquarters by heart, now, leaving him the focus to talk to his passenger.

“So what was that about?”

“What?”

“Come on, your mom was weird about you going out to study. And who’s Mr. Blinky?”

“Blinkous Galadrigal. He’s a troll.”

“You know _Blinkous Galadrigal_?”

Eli shifted suddenly against Steve’s back. “How do _you_ know him?”

“He’s a _troll_. Second to Elder Vendel, likely to take over Heartstone Trollmarket if Vendel were...killed.” Eli’s silence in response to that sent a thrill of - fear or something through Steve. “They made us learn about all this stuff. You gotta _know_ your enemy, right?”

“I’m guessing you’re doing okay in history, too.”

“I need at least a B minus average to stay on the team,” Steve retorted. “Anyway, does your _mom_ know Mr. Blinky’s a troll?”

“Yeah. I’m not supposed to get wrapped up in troll stuff or magic stuff, not after that whole...thing.”

“Where the hell did you get a cursed amulet anyway?”

“Gatto’s Keep?”

And Steve had _clearly_ been underestimating Eli. Getting in and _out_ of Gatto’s Keep took skills. Took _balls_ , too; Steve wasn’t certain he’d risk it himself.

“He’s this-“

“I _know_ who Gatto is. Everyone thinks the Order’s planning to drop a nuke on him when they get to him.”

“Fuck,” Eli breathed, and Steve wanted to slap himself. So much of this crap was just normal talk in the Order, but it must sound big. Dangerous.

“Do they _have_ a nuke?”

“I have no idea, Pepperjack. The Order’s headquartered in, like-“

Well, no one ever quite said. The Grand Commandant was nearly as secretive as the Thule Society, who Steve might have thought were made up (sorcerers? It sounded fake, even with trolls and everything), except he’d seen Winston demonstrate the powers of his phylactery.

Oh, fuck. Steve tried to remember how many people in LA had phylacteries. Winston, obviously, with the nasty ability to punch through concrete. Malcolm had that thing that let him see through others’ eyes.

And then there was Patience. Who was nineteen and had killed half as many trolls. Who the _other_ genocidal racists thought was overly zealous in her pursuit of their goal. Rumor was her phylactery was made from the bones of the last Archmage of the Thule Society, a bequest that came with _Deya’s Heart_ , a gem that let her slip untouched through the most heated melee.

Whose phylactery was rumored to have _two_ stones.

Who had allegedly fought Angor Rot and _lived_ , which was at least a cool explanation of what happened to her right eye.

“Um, Eli? What do you know about phylacteries?”

“They’re these things that hold magic gems so ordinary people can use magic.”

Which was enough for their purposes. Eli didn’t need the full explanation, that a member of the Order was expected to lay down their lives to protect a phylactery, or the body of a fallen Sorcerer of Thule whose magic had yet to be drawn into an item that could then channel living crystal through its bearer.

“Cause a couple of people at the office have phylacteries. Mr. Winston’s like, super strong. There’s this guy who can spy through other people’s eyes. And this chick who can like, _super_ dodge.”

“This doesn’t change the plan.”

“What? Or course not!” It had struck Steve, after the second session he’d been unable to hit a single goblin, that they were cute, in a weird way. Like those hairless dogs. And he’d been unable to shake the image, part of the reason he’d kept failing. Shooting dogs and, like, rats - that was a sign someone was a psycho, right?

“Just, you know, we gotta be careful.”

Eli snorted. “I can handle myself, Palchuk.”

“Look, getting out of Gatto’s Keep is one thing-“

“That was Claire Nuñez. _I_ helped kill Bular.”

Steve swerved in shock, dragging his Vespa to a stop rather than risk crashing. “You’re shitting me!”

Eli leaned back, and when Steve turned to look at him, shrugged. “Stabbed him right in the leg with a poisoned dagger.”

And _whatever_ else Eli was, he had _steel fucking balls_. In light of that, Steve wondered what would have happened if he’d actually tried to call in Eli to the Order. Probably lucky to get out of it with only a broken hand.

“Yeah, well, gotta bring that energy to the job tonight.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna _fuck up_ some lousy Nazi creeps!”

It gave Steve a small boost of confidence until they finally got within three blocks of the Order building and he parked them in an alley.

Realized they were going to break into a place where people had _guns_ and dangerous magic and weren’t afraid of using either one.

Eli, though, backpack secured, helmet hooked back on the handlebars of the Vespa, was bouncing on his feet.

He’d _been_ in a fight like this, had _won_.

“You ready?”

“Let’s _do_ this thing!”

And the first part was a little anticlimactic. After all, the entrance to the headquarters was concealed in an alley, and Steve had a key, so getting in was easy. It was early evening, not even dark yet, so there wasn’t really anyone there, and Steve knew how to walk like he fitted in here, so the few people who _did_ see them didn’t question them.

And then there was the kennel. It was locked, not like the front door with a keycard, but an ordinary door lock. But it was magically warded, too, to keep in anything the Order had on hand.

Eli, though, took one look at it and pulled out a roll of fabric that held what turned out to be _honest to god_ lockpicks, if the way Eli poked at the lock with them was any indication.

Steve realized a moment too late. “Wait-“

And then the lock clicked and Steve held his breath, waiting for the alarm.

Nothing happened.

“What?”

“There’s an alarm-“

“Must be our lucky day,” Eli replied. “Now come on.”

Inside were cages, emptier than the last time Steve had seen this room, and he felt a little sick. The gnomes were bunched in small groups, chittering quietly. The goblins scrabbled at the bars, the padlocks, secure, forged of metal that sparked when they touched it, chattering with anger, with fear.

This was _evil_ , Steve realized with a clarity he’d been unable to bring to bear since he’d let Eli escape the Order.

“Oh my gosh.”

Steve looked up, following Eli’s gaze to a cage tucked in the back. The creature was the size of a cat, not including the scaly tail wrapped around its form, and when it saw Eli staring at it, darted forward to the edge of the cage, spreading two armored, batlike wings as it chirped.

"I thought you said dragons weren't real."

"It's a _pseudodragon_ , or 'common dragon'," Eli said, ducking down as he approached the cage. "They're barely magical at all, except for their resistance to magic. They'd be endangered, if any government knew they existed enough to count them." He held out a hand, chirping back at the dragon, who flicked out a tongue before stretching, carefully, like a cat. Eli looked up at Steve, eyes wide, watery. "We've got to get him out."

"I'm not gonna rescue everyone else and leave _him_ here," Steve snapped. "Now get lockpicking before someone finds us."

"About thirty seconds too late for that, Steven."

Steve shivered along his whole body at the sound of the voice behind them.

 _Patience_.

He turned, carefully, hands up - not that it would stop her from killing them both if she thought it was warranted, but best not to give her a reason to think they were a danger to her.

She was actually pretty, if you discounted her personality. Her one eye hazel, almost golden, the other, glass, a grey that was almost silver, short-cropped blond hair, slim, built like an acrobat, clear skin Steve knew some girls would kill for, and a permanent smile that always made it look like she knew more than you.

She favored worn tank tops and jean shorts, always looking like she'd been slumming at a grunge concert or something.

And the choker, of course, wrapped around her throat, with the gleaming silver crystal set within it.

"Patience! Hey, how's it going?"

"Boring, mostly. Not a lot's been going on, lately. But then I found one of our recruits and some scrawny-ass baby messing around the kennel. What, your _boyfriend_ convince you to let those 'poor, innocent' creatures go?"

"No, I pretty much decided that on my own," Steve growled. He wasn't going to rise to Patience's bait, not when there was _so much else_ to be angry about. "What you're doing here is _wrong_ -"

"Oh, Steven. I _said_ letting in some mongrel without the proper _background_ was going to lead to trouble. I just didn't want to be _right_ about it." It was never clear where she kept the knives; she just always seemed to have one on hand when she needed it. "I'm glad, actually, you came right out and said that. I would've been _heartbroken_ if we'd spent a lot of time trying to rehabilitate you only for it not to take."

There was a click, and her gaze darted to Steve's shoulder. "Oh, you crafty little-"

The pseudodragon launched himself at her with a hiss, and Patience ducked, slipping under its leap as she closed the distance between her and Steve. He punched at her, finding the swing going wide, kicked, finding her already sidestepping it, and then she knocked him back into the goblin cages. She laughed, shoving up against Steve, knife held at his throat.

"I don't _like_ doing this, you know. Killing people. But sometimes, you're just in too deep - start to feel _sympathy_ for these monsters."

And, well, Steve was going to die anyway, so he spat at Patience. "I promise you, I don't have _any_ sympathy for monsters."

And then Patience reeled when Eli clocked her in the head with a rusted iron horseshoe. She dropped Steve, spun, smile twisting into an ugly scowl. "Okay, you little twerp, you got your shot in, but it's _all_ you're going to get."

And she slipped forward just as the pseudodragon snapped out to bite her, stepping into Eli's guard as he raised the horseshoe again, knife raising-

Steve grabbed for her arm, which she tucked in tight as she spun, stepping around Eli's knee as he brought it up toward her stomach, her scowl still evident as she saw Steve. "Oh my god, will you just _stop_? I'm going to kill you anyway, so you might as well make it easier on yourselves."

"Not going to!" Eli grunted. He lunged, sidestepped as Patience did, proving his first rush a feint, and clipped her knee as she ducked the pseudodragon; she danced back a few steps out of their reach, eyes narrowing, sharp. And it was a good discovery, that Deya's Heart wasn't perfect, that with concerted effort, she could be worn down.

Patience grunted and rolled her shoulders, and Steve felt another chill. It wasn't the reaction of someone worried about losing; it was the reaction of someone preparing to do something that was annoying or hard, something they usually tried to avoid doing.

Patience had _two_ stones in her phylactery.

Steve shoved Eli back, and with neither of them quite where Patience expected, the lightning bolt that jumped from her free hand missed them both.

"Stay the fuck _still_!" she screamed. But Eli, snatching the pseudodragon out of the air, dove behind an empty glass enclosure while he stuffed the creature into his backpack. Steve dodged toward another bank of cages before realizing Patience wouldn't hesitate to electrocute every creature in there to get to Steve. He ran toward the glass barrier Eli was using as cover, but saw in the corner of his eye Patience drawing her free hand back.

"No!" Eli jumped forward, shoving Steve out of the way, and took the full brunt of Patience's lightning bolt.

Knocked down and around, Steve saw her, grinning victoriously as her hand twitched anxiously.

He turned, scrambling, hoping Eli was at least _alive_ enough for CPR or something-

But Eli was _fine_. He clothing was scorched, but he didn't look like he'd just been hit by lightning.

"Mother _fucker_!" Patience screamed. "That flying rat won't keep you safe forever!"

But Steve, who remembered how Deya's Heart could be overwhelmed, that it was _possible_ to surprise Patience, who was a _quarterback_ , was moving the moment he saw Eli was okay. He was in reach as Patience screamed, so she had only a split-second to react when he reached a hand back-

She twisted to avoid a blow, so was unprepared for when Steve grabbed her choker.

It was metal or something, clasped tight around her throat, and it took only a second for her to shove him back.

But when he fell back, it was with Deya's Heart clutched in his hand.

Steve grinned and slammed the heel of his palm into her nose.

He felt her nose crack, break with the blow, and Patience wailed as blood ran liberally from the wound. "You _bastard_! You sniveling, weaselly faggot, I'll cut your _balls_ off!" She twisted her free hand around, making a steady half-circle in the air, and Steve grabbed her wrist and shoved it upward.

Lightning arced up, dancing along the ceiling; sparks fell as the lights flickered; hand still on Patience's wrist, Steve felt her hand twitch.

 _Ah_.

He had to slip aside when she swung her knife at him, but was on her _outside_ , meaning her arm was there in reach, and Steve had done this enough in his life as a bully that he could act almost on instinct, grabbing her arm, twisting it, and then it was just pressing past the moment when he'd stop and make threats.

You didn't threaten Patience, because that was starting a fight, and she didn't wait for a fight to escalate, just went in for the kill. You had to be just as ruthless if you wanted to beat her.

There was a wrench, a crack, and Patience screamed. She fell back away from Steve, not smiling, not scowling, her face pale with shock-

And vanished.

" _Three_?" Steve demanded. _Two_ -stone phylacteries were vanishingly rare. The number of _three_ -stoned ones could probably be counted on both hands.

 _Fuck_ , he didn't have time to worry about this. He turned, finding Eli fumbling with the last locks, goblins scrambling out of the cage as he did so. Several of the creatures, including one with a mustache drawn on in marker, hopped up to Steve, looking up at him with wide eyes. It was unnerving, particularly because Steve didn't know what their expressions meant.

"Eli?"

"Wakka-chakka!" the mustachioed one declared, and the others chattered in a chorus.

"Eli, are they going to eat me?"

"No, they're - you _fought_ for them."

Steve didn't have time to follow that thought, because the alarm he'd expected when they'd broken into the kennel began whooping.

"Get them out of here!" Steve shouted at Eli.

"What? What are you doing?"

"Getting you all out of the way!"

Eli hesitated. "Get them _out_ of here!" Steve repeated. "Isn't that why _you're_ here?"

"Steve-" Eli's hand clenched at his side. "Don't get yourself killed."

"Not planning on it."

Eli waved at the gnomes and goblins, who were milling about uncertainly, and darted along the hall toward the exit.

The mustachioed goblin was shouting at the others, keeping close by Steve's side, until Steve nudged them with his foot.

"No," he ordered. "Keep _him_ from getting killed. I've got a score to settle."

That wasn't true, but it _sounded_ badass. Steve had known leaving the Order was going to get him in trouble. Freeing a hundred creatures from the kennel, including a rare magical beast? Was going to get him in a lot more trouble.

Beating _Patience_ in a fight?

Not only would he be in trouble, they'd treat him like a _threat_.

Steve had only been to the security room once, but had a good head for directions, so it took only a minute. The guy watching the cameras was…

Well, wasn't a guy.

Patience hopped out of the chair, grinning, but the smile was a little wild. Her left arm was bandaged and splinted, and her right was empty.

"You know, after I sounded the alarm, I thought to myself, what's Palchuk's game? He can't imagine freeing a couple of animals is going to do anything to stop the Order of Dawn. But then, I think you didn't expect anyone to catch you. Which, uh-" She jerked a thumb back at the monitors. "So then I thought, now that I've seen him, now that we _know_ you've betrayed us, what's he going to do? He's going to want to destroy the evidence. And look, you even sent your boyfriend away so he's out of danger."

"You keep saying that like it'll make me hate you more than I already do."

"Hate? Why? Because I've got a _purpose_? Because I've got something I _believe_ in? What do _you_ believe in, Palchuk? Not us, apparently. And I don't think you really care about those monsters. Are you doing it for the little faggot who came in with you? Or maybe you're just lost. Confused. No goals, no ideals, _nothing_."

Steve took a deep breath. He knew she was trying to rile him up, get him distracted defending Eli, like Eli needed Steve's help, arguing back and forth when all he needed to know-

"Maybe I'm confused and lost. So what? I'm _sixteen_. And right now, knowing that Nazis are the _bad_ guys is enough."

He lunged; there was a knife in Patience's right hand, but she moved clumsily, and when he burst inside her reach and knocked her arm, she lost her grip. He'd been right; the lightning bolts fucked up the nerves in that hand, so all he had to do was keep her palm away from him-

Steve didn't know what instinct made him turn away when Patience inhaled, but it meant when she spat, the glob of mucous soared past him, splattering against the wall instead of his face. Whatever acid or poison made it up immediately began eating through the metal.

" _Four_?"

"Jeez _louise_ , haven't you learned anything? No one needs to know _every_ tool you've got at your disposal. _Anything_ you've got your enemy doesn't know about is a weapon. _Especially_ if it's a weapon."

She inhaled again, and Steve ducked another glob of spit. And he could see, now, why she didn't break this out earlier. It took _time_ , it distracted her.

His eyes flicked to the knife, halfway across the room, and he saw her eyes widen, seeing that.

She spat, forcing him a step away, and lunged for the knife.

You didn't really have a militia if your recruits didn't get weapons. If you didn't train your recruits to use those weapons.

You didn't have an effective neo-Nazi militia if you didn't try to teach people it's okay to kill people - intelligent, caring individuals whose only crime was you calling them a monster.

Steve had good aim when firing at stationary targets. His hangup had been shooting at creatures who were essentially harmless. It's why he'd missed _every shot_ during the live range training.

The Order of Dawn had tried to teach Steve not to hesitate when it came to putting down dangerous monsters.

So he didn't.

Anything you had your opponent didn't know about was a weapon. _Especially_ if it was a weapon.

His ears were still ringing when his hands started shaking, the gun slipping to the ground. Steve sat hard next to it. Vaguely remembering something about it, he wiped at the gun with his T-shirt, trying to remove...prints?

The building shook, and for a second, Steve thought it was an earthquake. But half a dozen monitors went dark, and another three suddenly showed corridors in flames.

 _Fuck_. Steve climbed to his feet, reaching for the door, before he paused, looked back. Deya's Heart was in his back pocket, but the rest of Patience's phylactery-

Phylacteries were the most valuable resource the Order of Dawn _had_.

Five minutes later, the bloodied choker in his pocket (with one depression at the front, and three on the interior of the necklace), Steve stumbled out toward the nearest exit, a fire exit he thought was nearby. He was probably in shock, or dying. Maybe Patience had - poisoned him with something.

He pushed through a door out into the relatively cool night; flames roared behind him, and Steve could see crowds starting to gather.

"Hey, you alright?" 

Steve tried shoving the presence away, but it caught his elbow, tugged him away; as he stepped away from the building, he saw the small, dark form of Eli, and some of the tension ran out of him.

" _Fuck_. You okay?"

"What about you? You're covered in blood!"

"Not mine," Steve muttered. He looked back, stepped further away. "We gotta get out of here. I…"

If the Order pieced together what Steve had done, they'd hesitate before going after him, he knew that.

At his Vespa, Steve paused, looked down at Eli. "Can you - thing?"

"What?"

Steve waved at the Vespa.

"I'm _fifteen_."

"Yeah, but you-" But Eli was the sort of kid who _wouldn't_ find ways to practice before he turned sixteen, with a mom who'd ground him forever if he had. "I…"

Eli held out a hand. "I'll...drive slow. And you...hang on."

A lot of the next few hours was vague; Steve was pretty sure he was more leaning on than holding onto Eli, probably making it pretty impossible to drive. There was a - 7-11, maybe? He remembered Eli yanking his shirt off, yelling at somebody?

They must have gotten back to Steve's house, because Steve woke in his own bed, feeling sore, smelling of disinfectant, but not covered in blood. When he finally got outside, his Vespa was missing. Digging through his memories, Steve decided it was possible he'd let Eli drive his Vespa back to his own house.

Even though it might get him grounded forever.

The walk was...further than Steve liked, but used to football training, not unbearable. Mrs. Pepperjack answered the door almost immediately after it rang, eyes narrowing when she saw him.

"Steven."

"Look, Mrs. Pepperjack, I have to tell you something."

She was shaking her head. "I don't-"

"It's _important_!" Steve didn't know what in his tone made Mrs. Pepperjack take a step back, hold the door open, but he hurried in before she could change her mind. He caught a flash of dark hair up the stairs, and then it was gone.

Mrs. Pepperjack, though she'd let Steve in, was looming as much as a woman who was shorter than Steve could manage. "Now what is it you have to tell me, about why my son came home an hour past his curfew, half-dead, driving a _motorcycle_ -"

"It's my fault. I - got involved in some bad stuff, and I came to Eli for _help_ , and...he didn't hesitate, Mrs. Pepperjack. I don't know what I've had done if he hadn't agreed to help me, but I'd be worse off. So I don't want you to think Eli ran off to disobey you to - party or join a gang or - or anything. He did it to _help_ , because that's who he _is_. And...maybe you should let him do that, because of how much _better_ he makes life for everyone around him."

She shook her head. "Steven-"

"Sorry. I didn't - I'll get my Vespa and go. You - have a nice day, Mrs. Pepperjack. Tell Eli thanks for me."

And that was pretty much it. He didn't know if Mrs. Pepperjack would let Eli get out and help trolls or other people or whatever again; he'd sneak out and do it anyway, Steve mused. But he was done with this - _out_ of the Order of Dawn, and in a way that'd make them think twice before trying to get back at him.

Not a _happy_ ending, but maybe getting out alive was the best ending he deserved.

\---

Bular didn’t know where they were - Stricklander had taken him by Gyre, so it could be _anywhere_. It was a hall, though, set into a cliff overlooking the ocean. And there were three changelings - four, including Stricklander. Two were in their human forms - Stricklander and another, a man darker skinned than Stricklander, lounging on a chair in a manner that couldn’t have been comfortable. Gold was spattered liberally across his form, in jewelry and body paint and tattoos.

Two were in their troll forms. The first was a creature whose eyes gleamed like coals; Bular was reminded uncomfortably of the smoldering flames in Angor Rot’s gaze. She was slender, pointed, red, yellow, and blue twisting across her hide. Bular wasn’t certain if the colors were moving in the dusk, or if was a trick of the light.

The last troll…

She was obviously in a troll form, because no one could mistake her for human. Her living stone, though, flowed and shifted with every breath. Bular’s father hated changelings spending more time looking human than necessary, claiming they would forget they were trolls.

This troll looked like she’d forgotten she was _anything_.

Stricklander had called them ‘friends’ when he’d announced Bular was ready to meet them. But this setup, the power gathered around each of them, these weren’t friends, or not just friends.

They were the hidden face of Janus, commanding some unknown portion of the changelings out in the world.

Bular, still shaky on the leg, forged of some dull grey metal, Stricklander had gifted him, lowered himself to one knee.

“It is an honor to meet you.”

“Nice trick,” the other human changeling drawled. “Will he roll over if you ask him to, or have we not progressed that far in his training yet?”

Bular fought down the urge to eviscerate this whelp for his insolence. This was not the Janus Order that paid more than lip service to Gunmar; these were the ones who wanted to live free of Gunmar's and Morgana's control. They wouldn't be impressed by threats, and he wasn't certain they'd feel particularly _threatened_ , either.

The slender troll leaned in, a narrow, unimpressed cant to her eyes.

A _familiar_ expression. "Are you Nomura's-"

"Mother, yes," the slender troll said. She sat back, lips curling as she glanced at Stricklander. "Which reminds me - _you_ still have a job to do."

Stricklander huffed. "It is delicate work, sneaking into the Janus Order; I don't _work_ there anymore, if you recall. _Frederick_ could do it."

"And risk my cover?" the other human changeling demanded. "Do you know how long it took me to get that posting in Miami?"

"...There isn't an office in Miami," Stricklander said.

"Yeah, and as long as no one's looking too closely at what I'm up to, no one's going to remember that." Frederick clicked his tongue and stretched along his chair. Suddenly, he perked up, scrambling up into something like a normal seated position. "What about Daddy's Little Despot over there?"

"Careful," Bular growled, and Frederick paused, gave him a lazy glance.

"I got _twice_ as many working limbs as you, Buster. So what about it?" He turned back to Stricklander. "Get Prince Gummy to do it. Prove he's willing to get his claws grubby - risk a little something for the sake of the cause."

"Do...what?"

"Get my daughter back," Nomura's mother said. "The Janus Order grabbed her up after Killahead, and I haven't seen her since. She might not be one of our people _per se_ , but one of the luxuries we're afforded by not answering to anyone else is we can do whatever we want."

A luxury Bular had never had, and one he suspected he wouldn't have for some time, not so long as he was trying to impress these people.

"And what will happen once I've rescued her?"

"Then...we'll talk," Nomura's mother pronounced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A - yeah. Don't call someone a dude's boyfriend to insult him. Don't call anyone a faggot. And don't perpetrate genocide.
> 
> On a happier note, Frederick is not my original character - though adapted, he's [Inco's](https://infographicisminetocommand.tumblr.com/) creation.


	10. Wingmen

**Heartstone Trollmarket, AD 1689**

Blinky paused when he entered his library to see light flickering within; a traitorous surge of hope flared in his chest, which he quashed before it could grow too much. Dictatious was dead; no amount of wishing would change that.

In any case, he had a guest to attend to.

Aarghaumont the Pitiless, who'd asked they call him Aaarrrgghh. A Krubera warrior, carved, through the vicious life of a Gumm Gumm, to something sharp-edged and monstrous.

Aaarrrgghh was sitting in the furthest corner of Blinky's library, hunched down so he looked almost small, and when Blinky drew close, he saw Aaarrrgghh was bent over one of Dictatious' books. One about the history of trollkind, Blinky thought.

"Are you alright...Aaarrrgghh?"

Aaarrrgghh shrugged. "Sorry. Don't...know."

"Well, I suppose you don't have to know. I merely thought if you weren't well, I might be able to do something to help."

Aaarrrgghh grunted, uncertain, tugging the book close to his chest. He looked...wary, and Blinky wondered what Aaarrrgghh could possibly fear from _him_.

"Is there anything you would like to discuss? Is your room comfortable?"

"Yes, I. Yes. Thank you."

Blinky ambled to Aaarrrgghh's side, picking up some of the books Aaarrrgghh had been reading, or knocked aside finding this one. "Have you met Kanjigaar yet? He is an Eclipse Knight and defender of Trollmarket-"

"Yes. Says Aaarrrgghh should fight. Gumm Gumms. Monsters. Humans who threaten Trollmarket."

"Oh." Blinky scrambled about for a response to that. "Do you...have friends among the Gumm Gumms?"

"Bular and Aaarrrgghh spar as whelps. Never beat me," Aaarrrggh replied, a hint of pride in his voice, and Blinky could see why Kanjugaar wanted Aaarrrgghh on their side. "Don't want to fight."

"Well, it's hard fighting people you knew-"

"Don't want to fight _at all_ ," Aaarrrggh rumbled. "Too much fighting, too much death already."

Blinky...hadn't been certain of Vendel's decision to let Gunmar's most dangerous general join them in Trollmarket. He could easily believe a Gumm Gumm might turn on Gunmar; he was a cruel master, and likely used the threat of the Decimaar Blade to keep people in check. But he'd worried Aaarrrgghh might be here to carve out a kingdom for himself, while Gunmar lurked, trapped in the Darklands.

"And you want to...read?"

Aaarrrgghh shrugged. "Want to know more about Krubera. After that...don't know."

"Well." Blinky stepped away from Aaarrrgghh, finding a book he knew to talk more about the Deep Caverns. "Then how about I help you in discovering more about your people, and after that...I'll help you look for what else you want to do?"

Blinky had once stood beneath the angry glare of Aarghaumont the Pitiless; it had been a horrifying moment, followed shortly by the panicked flight from a creature who'd threatened to eat him. 

Aaarrrgghh's assessing gaze was nothing like that ferocious stare. For one, with Aaarrrgghh seated among Blinky's books, he didn't tower over Blinky as he once had. For another, when not alight with battle-rage, Aaarrrgghh's eyes were quite a pretty shade of green.

"I'd like that," Aaarrrgghh agreed.

\---

**The Present**

Aaarrrgghh was reading (not one of Blinky's books; Blinky's brother Dictatious had written most of them, and he was nearly as wordy as Blinky) when Blinky stumbled into the library, crashing into the supplies from when Aaarrrgghh had cleaned the library that morning.

"Company coming," Aaarrrgghh murmured as Blinky extricated himself from the mop and set the broom aside.

Blinky chuckled as he swept his books up. "Aaarrrgghh, old friend, you shouldn't put stock in superstitions like that. Even if there _is_ a correlation, they're prone to such false positives-"

"Broom falling doesn't always mean company coming," Aaarrrgghh replied, offering Blinky a shrug. "But it does this time."

The top pair of Blinky's eyes narrowed; he took a step closer. "Aaarrrgghh?"

"Don't worry, Blinky. Friend." He smiled at Blinky, who relaxed, setting his books down and coming to sit next to Aaarrrgghh.

"I wish I could share your optimism, old friend. But things rarely turn out as well as we hope."

Aaarrrgghh shrugged. "Things were pretty bad before. Turned out pretty good now." He patted Blinky's shoulder with his free hand and squinted carefully at his book. "If not Gunmar, not as bad as it could be."

"And what if it _is_ Gunmar, and his entire army, battering down the doors to murder us all?"

"Hm. Call Toby and Jim. And Mulder. Angor Rot here, and Kellor. Everything be okay."

Blinky laughed then, a loud, boisterous sound; he leaned against Aaarrrgghh with a quiet sigh. "I suppose that _is_ a formidable team to bring to bear against Gunmar. Now what are you reading?"

Aaarrrgghh noted the page and closed the book, twisting it around so Blinky could see the cover. "Borrowed from Toby."

Blinky tugged the book; Aaarrrgghh let him take it, trusting Blinky to treat it gently. Blinky twisted the book around to read the back cover, frowning slightly when he did.

"It's not particularly cerebral, is it?"

"Educational, though," Aaarrrgghh replied, pulling the book back, holding to his chest once it was secure. "All about human romance. Learn about 'kissing'."

"Kissing?" Blinky frowned. "I've _heard_ that word." One hand stroked his chin, and two others waved as he paced in a tight circle. After only a moment, though, he looked up at Aaarrrgghh. "Its meaning has, however, momentarily escaped me. Would you mind?"

Explaining to Blinky what kissing was?

Aaarrrgghh took a deep breath.

"Aaarrrgghh! You need to get out here _now_!"

Aaarrrgghh had woken knowing this was going to be a big day, but that did not, apparently, involve talking to Blinky about feelings. Because when Draal dragged them out of Blinky's (and Aaarrrgghh's, technically, though he was only there with Blinky's permission) house, the street was crowded with awed trolls, eyes fixed on the procession moving from the direction of the Gyre station. Trolls were dimming or putting out lights before the procession could reach them, and Aaarrrgghh saw Vendel hurrying in their direction, away from the glowing Heartstone.

Two lines of smooth-skinned trolls whose exposed skin was marked with lines glowing in the dimness walked along the streets of Trollmarket. Aaarrrgghh hunched a little as a pair passed them, aware how rough he looked compared to them. And because _this_ many Krubera trolls wouldn't brave the lands this close to the surface unless they were escorting-

"Usurna!" Vendel caught up with the queen of the Krubera as she stopped several dozen feet away for her guards to spread out, pushing other trolls away from her. Not, though, Aaarrrgghh, and Blinky, once Aaarrrgghh grabbed his arm. "We would have prepared a more appropriate welcome if we had known to expect you."

"I apologize; I am unused to such niceties being necessary." She looked around, offering Aaarrrgghh a gentle smile when she saw him. "But I quite unexpectedly needed to see my kinsman. Hello, Aarghaumont."

Aaarrrgghh sank to one knee; he had enough practice kneeling to his warlord that it was easy to do so for his queen. The few times he'd met her, she'd made it clear being his aunt didn't mean she deserved any less respect. "Queen."

"Rise, Aarghaumont."

Climbing back to his feet, Aaarrrgghh caught sight of Blinky, and felt a sudden need. He'd been still uncertain about his place in the world when he'd last met Usurna. She deserved to know how he'd changed.

"You should meet Blinky, too, Your Majesty." Aaarrrgghh tugged Blinky forward, pushing him in front of her. She took a hurried step back, but paused when she actually saw Blinky. "When I left Gunmar, he helped me. Taught me. Support me, even though we were enemies."

Usurna pressed a hand against her chest and nodded at Blinky. "Then you have my thanks…"

"Blinkous Galadrigal, Your Majesty." Queen Usurna stilled for a moment, before raising her head, polite smile on her lips.

"A fine lineage, to which you are clearly a credit. Now, Aarghaumont, is there somewhere we may speak? Privately? There are important matters we must discuss."

Aaarrrgghh pointed to Blinky's home. "Blinky's - my - house this way."

Usurna followed Aaarrrgghh, but paused after a few steps.

"Aarghaumont, I said we needed somewhere to speak _privately_. _Alone_." She looked back at Blinky, who was trailing them (to keep up with the hand Aaarrrgghh had clutched in his own).

Aaarrrgghh shook his head. "Blinky smarter than Aaarrrgghh. Want him to hear what you have to say."

Usurna's lips twitched from her gentle smile to a...flatter expression. "Well. If Blinkous wishes to join us, don't allow me to stop him."

Aaarrrgghh gave Blinky a smile he hoped conveyed his apologies, but he didn't let go of Blinky's hand, not giving him the choice not to join Aaarrrgghh and Usurna. Once inside, though, Aaarrrgghh let go; the entire library smelled of Blinky (well...dust and paper, which was pretty much what Blinky smelled like), and Aaarrrgghh didn't feel quite so lost not having Blinky physically close.

Usurna scanned the library as they entered, before stopping next to the long table. She waved at Blinky and Aaarrrgghh; Aaarrrgghh shook his head at Blinky and stayed standing, and after a moment, Blinky took a spot next to him.

Usurna gave Blinky a long, intense look, before turning to Aaarrrgghh. Arms tucked behind her back, she gave him a gentle smile.

"Aarghaumont. It has been… _centuries_ since you turned your back on Gunmar. Found your way to Heartstone Trollmarket. I have given you time to recover from your ordeal, but of late, I have heard...troubling reports. Trolls have been seen above ground. The Order of Dawn is active in Arcadia. _You_ have been consorting with humans, threatening the safety of our entire race!"

"Ur." Aaarrrgghh looked to Blinky, who shrugged; it wasn't like anything Usurna said was _false_ , just...it surely wasn't as bad as that, was it?

"Oh, Aarghaumont, I'm not here to chastise you." Usurna reached out to pat Aaarrrgghh's cheek. "I know how...confusing the surface world can be, how those this close to the sun, can be blinded by the light."

"Oh. Good." Aaarrrgghh felt some of the tension in his chest ease.

"Which is why I'm here to bring you home, Aarghaumont."

An hour later, Blinky was grabbing books apparently at random off the shelves, scanning each less than a moment before hurling them aside, when his phone rang.

"Elijah! Thank goodness!" There was the distant sound of a voice, and then, "No, that was a typo. I'm afraid I am quite distraught." Aaarrrgghh's heart clenched at the declaration; obviously the situation with the Order of Dawn wasn't his fault, but if he'd been firmer on them staying away from Eli, and then Toby…

"Call Toby," Aaarrrgghh said, drawing the gaze of Blinky's left eyes.

"What? Hold on, Elijah. Aaarrrgghh-"

"Should know. Usurna said we have one day."

"Yes, we do not have much time. I need to see if Elijah has any thoughts; he was _quite_ interested in my books on troll law. Yes, Elijah?"

Blinky was right; it was best to get Mulder working on a solution. But Toby…

Well, they hadn't known each other for long, but Toby and Aaarrrgghh had things in common that made it easier to talk to him than Blinky or Mulder. Pieces of their past lost to them by tragedy. A heritage they didn't fully understand. A love of quiet phone games that didn't involve killing.

"Well, I have no idea. Usurna _is_ his people's queen; there is very little she could _not_ demand from him."

Blinky was speaking noticeably faster, which Aaarrrgghh took as a sign to intervene. He plucked the phone away from Blinky (the delicate touch necessary for the device practiced by now) and held it up to his face.

"Mulder? Blinky needs to rest."

"Well, I'll look into things on my end, and don't worry. We'll find a way to keep you in Trollmarket!"

Aaarrrgghh wasn't sure; Usurna had survived the age of Gunmar with few losses, and was the wisest of the Krubera. He doubted she would demand Aaarrrgghh return with her to the Deep Caverns if Aaarrrgghh could easily refuse.

"Phone. End call. Call Toby."

The spirit that could use the phone _for_ Aaarrrgghh was wonderful (he refused to dismiss the spirit as just a bunch of numbers, the way Eli said, until he was certain the spirit _couldn't_ think). After a moment, it rang once, twice, and then-

"Hey, Aaarrrgghh!"

"It could be Blinky," Aaarrrggh replied.

"Hm, no. Blinky calls _Jim_. What's up, buddy?"

"Um. News. Not...good news."

"What? Do you need us to come down there and kick ass?"

Aaarrrgghh laughed, because few people would think Aaarrrgghh was in danger and offer to come kick ass to protect _him_. "No. Queen Usurna - queen of Krubera - come to Trollmarket. Said...Aaarrrgghh has to go with her."

"Krubera, Kru - you said _you_ were a Krubera, right?"

"Usurna Aaarrrgghh's queen, yes."

"So when you say 'go with her'..."

"Have to go back to the Deep Caverns." Aaarrrgghh took a deep breath. "No phone there. Too deep for humans."

"So we couldn't visit. No problem. How long?"

Aaarrrgghh couldn't get the words out, but when he didn't respond, Toby let out a quiet sound. "You don't mean…"

"For good."

"Well, there's gotta be something you can do. She's your queen, not your _owner_."

"Maybe. Blinky and Eli doing research."

"And what about you, dude?"

"Worrying."

Toby clicked his tongue. "Come on, dude, you can't do that. Did you finish all the books I lent you?"

"No," Aaarrrgghh allowed.

"Well, come on, that's something to do."

"...Can read in the Deep Caverns," Aaarrrgghh replied. "Can't see friends there."

Toby was quiet long enough that Aaarrrgghh turned the phone over to see if it had disconnected. But then he spoke up. "You want me to wrangle up Eli and come to visit?"

"Mul - Eli grounded." That wasn't quite right, but he wasn't allowed in Trollmarket, anyway.

"Dude, you underestimate the power of a good sob story. Give me an hour."

It took ninety minutes for Eli and Toby to arrive at Blinky's home; overcome, Aaarrrgghh lifted both of them up to hug them as tightly as their frames could handle.

"Thank you," he murmured to Toby.

Toby reached up to pat Aaarrrgghh's shoulder. "It's cool, dude."

"Hmph." Aaarrrgghh set them both down, taking in Eli. He looked...less uncertain than he had when Aaarrrgghh had first met him. But then, Eli had fought Bular, defeated a Polymorph and the artifact he'd used to ensnare the entire high school, and burned down an Order of Dawn headquarters (though he was insistent he hadn't _meant_ to).

He'd come a long way since he'd panicked at the mere sight of Draal.

And Toby…

Aaarrrgghh had known him shorter, but he'd changed, too. His eyes had shifted to a shade of green closer to blue than they'd been before, and had a tendency to glow when he drew on his new-found powers.

"Hey, you want to help me train?" Toby asked.

"...Too small to fight," Aaarrrgghh replied.

Toby shook his head, grinning suddenly. "Not what I had in mind. Come on."

Aaarrrgghh looked over at Eli. "...Mulder?"

Eli looked between Aaarrrgghh and the stack of books Blinky was scanning desperately. "Come on, Blinky, let's grab a couple of books I think will help and go watch the boys try to beat each other up."

"Not going to beat up Toby; he's a _friend_."

"Alright, let's _go_."

Despite his insistence he didn't want to fight with Aaarrrgghh, Toby led them to the Heroes' Forge; Aaarrrgghh lingered at the entrance while Eli and Blinky settled in the gallery, ducking over their books, though with frequent glances up at Aaarrrgghh.

"Toby…"

"Alright," Toby said, clapping his hands together. "I've been planning to try this somewhere I can't accidentally float away if I lose control."

Aaarrrgghh looked up at the ceiling of the Forge, and then back at Toby, a notion forming in his head. "And someone to catch you."

"Um." Toby scratched at the back of his head, smiling weakly. "Yeah. I figure if you're there to catch me if I do it wrong, I can really let loose with my...stuff I can do."

"Hm." Aaarrrgghh bent over, swept up Toby, and, bracing himself, hurled Toby up as hard as he could manage.

And Aaarrrgghh, remembering Toby hiding in a cave to avoid drifting off when he'd first discovered his powers, watched raptly as Toby soared nearly to the ceiling, slowing as he approached until he reached the top of his arc and…

Paused.

"Whoa," Eli whispered, eyes fixed on his floating friend. "How is he _doing_ that?"

"We're not certain," Blinky replied. "Some sort of magical heritage is the most likely explanation, but, well, 'there are more wonders in heaven and earth than dreamt of in our philosophy'."

Above them, Toby shifted, and dropped.

_Fast_.

Much faster than he should have.

Aaarrrgghh darted underneath his falling friend, hoping Toby, who could be so heavy to crush otherwise sturdy furniture, wasn't falling fast enough to crush Aaarrrgghh.

Toby was still accelerating when he reached Aaarrrgghh, slamming into him and sending them both tumbling to the ground. Aaarrrgghh shifted gingerly, finding nothing seemed broken. Toby all but bounced up, reaching a hand down to help Aaarrrgghh up, even though it didn't do much. "Okay, should've been paying more attention in physics," Toby said with a grin. "Forgot about momentum."

"That was so _cool_!" Eli cheered. After a second, he scrambled down onto the floor of the Forge, sprinting to Aaarrrgghh's and Toby's side. "How _are_ you doing that? How much control do you have? Can we run tests? Just some preliminary trials, nothing fancy-"

He paused, suddenly, eyes widening. " _Trials_!" He spun. "Blinky! A _Grand Council_! You can argue before them to overrule Usurna's command!"

Vendel was not impressed by the suggestion. "Grand Councils are meant for issues of the grandest import - not where any one troll is to live."

"It _is_ important," Aaarrrgghh growled; the humans, Vendel, and even Blinky started at the sound of his voice. "More important than _anything else_."

"Well." Vendel peered at Aaarrrgghh, eyes careful in his examination. Whatever he saw, though, made him shrug. "If you believe so, I will call a Grand Council and allow _you_ the opportunity to make your case before the leaders of trollkind."

"Oh," Blinky said. "Oh dear."

"What?" Eli asked.

"Before the Grand Council, one can only choose a representative of one's own tribe," Blinky said. "And because no other Krubera is likely to speak in Aaarrrgghh's defense…"

"Oh," Toby said. " _Fuck_."

Despite the fact he wouldn't be allowed to speak for Aaarrrgghh, Toby spent the next several hours listening intently to Eli's and Blinky's debate about ways to get around Usurna's command. Aaarrrgghh _tried_ to pay attention, but he knew what he planned to say, and that made the debate seem unimportant. More so than trying to memorize the faces of his friends. Toby, new to him, but still dear. Eli, who Aaarrrgghh had once worried needed someone like Aaarrrgghh with him to keep him safe, but was here to save Aaarrrgghh. Blinky…

The Grand Council was small, few of the troll clans sending their representatives in response to Vendel's call.

Vendel and Usurna, of course, and Gatto, in the form of a great stone head. Other trolls, the contingent of Krubera, and the mixed crowd from Trollmarket, sat to the side of the tribunal, the few trolls who cared enough about the fate of a single Krubera to respond to the call for a Grand Council.

Aaarrrgghh stood alone before them, no counsel, no one to speak for him but himself. He kept his hands at his side, but stood straight, tall, aware none of them would be impressed by him trying to look small.

Usurna glowered at him from her seat, and Vendel was watching him with a careful, neutral expression.

But Aaarrrgghh was certain Vendel was on his side.

"Aarghaumont, Vendel has called this...tribunal because you wish to disobey my command for you to return to the Deep Caverns to live amongst your own people."

"Yes."

"And what reason do you offer for this tribunal to allow you to remain in Trollmarket? Against the express wishes of your queen? Of your mother's sister, to whom your care was entrusted?"

"To go to the Deep Caverns...would be an unbearable separation," Aaarrrgghh replied.

Violet eyes widened as Usurna sat up straight, disdain giving way to shock. Aaarrrgghh tried not to grin.

"An unbearable - explain yourself, Aarghaumont. _Plainly_."

"There is a troll in Heartstone Trollmarket, who cannot survive the Deep Caverns. Blinkous Galadrigal. He is my _**beloved**_." When Aaarrrgghh had found that word, derived from the earliest Trollspeak, in his research of Krubera customs, in his attempt to connect in some way to his heritage, it had appealed to him. He hadn't known anyone, then, who the sense of belonging, understanding, said to be the hallmark of a _**beloved**_ , inspired. But it had been a nice thought. And after that...

"What did he say, Blinky?" Toby's voice was unexpectedly loud against the silence of the crowd, and, because few of the assembled knew the answer, Blinky's response was spoken into the same silence, clearly heard by all.

"I don't - the root is the same as the word 'to value', with an accent that usually acts as an emotional intensifier…"

Usurna burst into laughter from her chair. "A clever claim, Aarghaumont, and one I might have believed, were it not clear Blinky has _no idea_ what you are talking about! I apologize for having wasted your time, gentlemen, but Aarghaumont has always been willful."

Blinky, to the side, looked confused, hurt, and Aaarrrgghh's chest ached in sympathy. But unless Aaarrrgghh could convince Usurna otherwise, he wouldn't have time to explain.

"Had to be, to escape Gunmar. Had to learn myself how to live. No king. No queen. Just me."

Usurna sighed. "A touching statement, but irrelevant to your ultimate destination, Aarghaumont."

Aaarrrgghh, facing the loss of the life he'd made for himself, felt his patience evaporate. "Aaarrrgghh."

"I'm sorry?"

"Aaarrrgghh. Not Aarghaumont."

Usurna's expression twitched, darkened, and she rose, a slow shift until she stood at her full height. "Your name, Aarghaumont-"

" _Aaarrrgghh_!" Aaarrrgghh roared, shaking the room with the force of the cry. He saw white for a moment before his vision cleared. Above, Usurna's face had gone cold, dark, mouth flat.

"Our people are not meant to live this close to the surface. It has clearly eroded your good sense, left you with no idea of what is best for you. Gentlemen, let us put an end to this and let me take Aarghaumont back where he belongs."

"His name is Aaarrrgghh!" Toby shouted. He vaulted over the divider, dropping to the ground with deceptive lightness, before storming toward the troll leaders. "And _he's_ the only one who can decide where he belongs!"

"Quiet, human!" Usurna commanded. "Only Aarghaumont's tribesman may speak for him."

"Tribesman? So the only people who can speak for him are a bunch of people he's never met? What about the dude he's been living with for _centuries_? Or what about me?"

"You are no troll."

"The Quagawumps believe I'm the reincarnation of the Shattered King, which I think _does_ make me a troll. There's probably a good argument it gives me a place on your little tribunal. But of _course_ you're going to think he belongs with you when none of the people who care about him are allowed to talk!"

Usurna's markings flared to almost blinding light as she took a threatening step toward Toby. "Watch yourself, fleshbag. You are here only by my sufferance."

"Gatto thinks the fleshbag has a point."

"What?" Usurna turned on the floating head of Gatto. "A _point_? He has addressed this council out of turn, and questioned my wisdom!"

"But if your wisdom is beyond question, no question, no matter what the source, should prove it in error."

"And if your wisdom is _not_ beyond question," Vendel added, "should we not consider questions about it, _whatever_ the source?"

Usurna huffed, but sat back down, folding her hands in her lap. "Very well. This...human may speak for Aarhgaumont. But _only_ this human."

"And who's allowed to speak for Aaarrrgghh?" Toby demanded.

"Aarghaumont, Aaarrrgghh, what's the difference?"

"If it doesn't make a difference, _use his real name_!" Toby screamed. His hands were fisted at his sides, and from Aaarrrgghh's angle, he could see the hint of a glow in Toby's eyes. "Because there _isn't_ a troll named Aarghaumont you can take back with you."

Usurna's gaze flared red amongst the violet, but she didn't move. "Speak your peace...on Aaarrrgghh's behalf."

Toby huffed. "Fine. You want to talk about what's best for Aaarrrgghh? Where he belongs? Everything he knows about Krubera he read in books. Everything he knows about the place you say is his home he's gotten third-hand from people who've never even been there."

"All the more reason-"

"Every single person he cares about lives close to - or _on_ \- the surface. Every part of his life that he cares about _in the slightest_ is here."

"That does not mean he will thrive here."

"Yeah, I know." Toby shrugged. "Maybe you know better than me. But I'm pretty sure you said you'd let him stay if Blinky were his… _ **be...loved**_?"

"And what of it? None of you has any idea what that means - _Blinkous_ has no idea what it means! So-"

"So maybe he never had a chance to talk about it! Maybe if he explained it, Blinky'd agree! But more than that...whatever it _does_ mean, Aaarrrgghh seemed pretty serious about it. And he's _not_ the type of guy to make up stuff like that. If you knew anything about him, you'd know that."

"I don't appreciate your tone, fleshbag."

" _Troll_ , Your Majesty, if you asked the Quagawumps. Troll _king_. So I think that means I can use any tone I want. And I think...telling your people where they belong...without caring where they _feel_ like they belong, is stupid, and short-sighted, and a sign of being a _lousy_ queen."

Usurna, face twisted into a vicious scowl, glanced between Vendel and Gatto, before she settled back, frown easing into...well, she was clearly still unhappy. But she then sat back, hands resting on the arms of her seat. "Well. If...Aaarrrgghh will say he believes remaining here is _best for him_ , I will allow him to stay."

"Yes!" Toby jumped, spinning to face Aaarrrgghh, grinning at him.

But Aaarrrgghh was looking up at Usurna, whose gaze was even, steady. She'd placed special emphasis on that phrase, _best for him_.

Which meant…

Aaarrrgghh took a breath. Usurna thought she knew better how Aaarrrgghh would fare here in Heartstone Trollmarket. But Aaarrrgghh...had never had reason to doubt he belonged here, would _thrive_ here.

"It is best I stay here," he said.

"Hm!" Usurna rose from her seat abruptly. "We're going!" she announced, and the other Krubera rose to follow her as she stalked from the hall.

"Dude!" Toby ran into Aaarrrgghh with enough force to rock him a little; Eli followed a moment later.

Blinky approached after a few moments, but moved hesitantly, looking up at Aaarrrgghh as he stopped just outside arms reach.

"I'm glad you won't be going...my friend."

The humans had to leave at that point, but after Eli gave Aaarrrgghh a hug, promising to call later, Toby stood next to Aaarrrgghh, and reached up to pat his hand. He winked at Aaarrrgghh.

"You know, if there's something you wanted to tell Blinky, now'd be a good time for it."

And Aaarrrgghh was pretty sure Toby didn't know Trollspeak, but...he sounded like he knew what _**beloved**_ meant.

"Uh…"

"Good luck, dude." Toby reached up and bumped his fist against Aaarrrgghh's.

In what seemed like too little time, Aaarrrgghh found himself standing at the edge of Blinky's library, watching him resort his books. Blinky was moving constantly, barely looking as books as he set them down, grabbing two, three at a time.

He was anxious. Upset.

Normally Aaarrrgghh would move to comfort him, but…

He suspected Blinky was upset with _Aaarrrgghh_.

"Are you...okay?"

Blinky looked up from where he'd gathered a dozen books in one armful. "I'm fine, old friend."

"Worrying."

Blinky huffed and let the books drop before shaking his head. "You know me too well, old friend. I suppose I am worrying, but it's nothing to worry yourself about."

"Blinky-" Blinky looked up, frowning, Aaarrrgghh saw, which shouldn't be allowed, not because of _Aaarrrgghh_. "I called you _**beloved**_. Old Trollspeak word. Krubera still use it. It means...someone you cannot bear to be away from. To be with always. Um." Aaarrrgghh let his gaze fall to his feet. "Like a word in Toby's books. 'Soulmate'."

" _ **Beloved**_ ," Blinky said thoughtfully, the sound of that word on his lips sending a shiver along Aaarrrgghh's spine. "I don't know what I would have done without you, either, my friend."

"Not… _friends_ ," Aaarrrgghh said. "Old friends or good friends."

"Ah." Blinky took a few steps forward. "I believe I understand." He gave Aaarrrgghh a weak smile, hesitant. "Before Usurna arrived, you were talking about your books. About something humans that are in a romantic relationship do. You should...show me what this 'kissing' is."

\---

Darci loved Claire; she _did_ , would do anything for her. But she was finding herself unable to keep up with Claire's obsessive training with the Shadowstaff to find her way to the Darklands and back again. Mary was...good at keeping Claire calm when it got too much for her and Claire threatened to dissolve into a puddle of tears.

Darci...wasn't. With the stuff she'd been able to learn about Gunmar from Eli, she didn't even have any ideas how to _hold off_ the leader of the Gumm Gumms if they ran into him, much less kill him.

So she was taking a break from...shadow magic and troll kings and Eli's clandestine research about the world's ongoing weirdness, feeding the birds oats. A few crows had arrived ten minutes ago and were involved in a passive-aggressive turf war over who got the snacks. Darci was putting her money on the pigeons - Arcadia Oaks crows were used to sitting in high places looking ominous, while the pigeons were a vicious, hungry bunch.

" _Faas Ru Maar_!"

At the sound of the shout, the pigeons fled, and a moment later, a crow landed on Darci's bench. They turned to her, cocking their head, and then made a clicking noise. The sound almost sounded...disapproving.

"Oats," they muttered. "You could've brought _anything_ , and you bring _oats_."

Darci gave the crow a careful examination. There was no point in freaking out, and she wasn't about to lose her cool by saying anything like, "you can talk?". The crow presumably was aware of that fact.

"The pigeons don't usually complain."

"The pigeons have terrible taste," the crow retorted. "Now, I'm going to ask you a question, kid, and you'd better be honest about it."

"Go ahead."

"Have you got anything like a french fried potato about your person?"

"It depends on who's asking."

The crow snapped their beak, irritated. "You're gonna make this hard on me, aren't you?"

"Come on. I don't even know your name."

"Raum. And _you're_ Darci, a kind-hearted animal lover who may be persuaded to take pity on a poor starving crow."

Darci chuckled despite herself. "You're more than just a poor starving crow...but if you're willing to tell me more about that, I might be persuaded to stop by McDonalds."

"Ahhhhh," Raum croaked. "I have a feeling this is the beginning of a very profitable relationship."


	11. The Enemy of My Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends?

**The Bulgarian Sea, AD 1297**

Angor leaned against the mast of his ship. He supposed he should count himself lucky he had escaped with his life, but with his broken bones, what he was certain was a concussion, and a sluggishly bleeding wound he suspected was cursed, it didn't feel like a win.

After all, he'd gone to the Pale Lady for _help_.

But her smile when he'd begged for help against Gunmar's armies had set his nerves jangling. He recalled how Merlin had come to the first communities ravaged by Gunmar's ferocious Gumm Gumm army, offering a tool to aid them in their defense.

How none had trusted his claim to altruism, leaving him to place his Amulet of Daylight in the hands of humans.

It had been a wild guess, not a hope, for to believe Morgana commanded Gunmar was to believe the _worst_ of a woman who legend suggested had been present at the creation of trollkind.

But her shocked demand of _how Angor Rot had known_ proved Angor Rot's suspicion, and forever shaken his faith in any creature that would lay claim to godhood.

And in that, the realization that the _Pale Lady_ had been responsible for so much loss of life, for the misery visited upon Angor Rot and his family, his village-

Had Angor Rot been in his right mind, he would have hesitated to attack Morgana, knowing he was no match for her, a master sorceress and lady of the Winter Court.

But in his fury, such considerations were meaningless, and he raised his blades against Morgana. And in the end...well, Angor Rot would never suggest that he had _won_ , but he had escaped with his life.

And with something _far more valuable_.

He held up the bloody eye he'd wrenched from the elf witch's face, examining the silver gleam of magic still trapped within it.

He had an idea, the merest inkling, of what might be done with such a fragment of the witch's body.

How this eye might be used to forge a weapon to turn against her.

\---

**The Present**

"Did you ever meet Merlin?"

Arthur frowned at Jim, a glint in his eyes, one that Jim would have found more threatening if he hadn't found Arthur perfectly willing to _grin_ while beating the shit out of him. "How old do you think I am?"

"I don't know. I asked...Tiffany about you. She said you weren't after her time." 

"You… _asked_ about me? Sounds like Sloane is rubbing off on you."

Jim ducked back, suddenly aware it must seem like he didn't trust Arthur. "I didn't mean-"

"Nah." Arthur grinned, a brief flash of white against his dark skin. "It's alright." He leaned back, propped up against his arms on the dirt of his training ground. "She's right; I _have_ been around since before Tiffany. Of course, it doesn't mean a whole lot. I'm not as...forceful as Tiffany or Sloane, who've managed to hang on to consciousness pretty much constantly since they died."

"So you've been...sleeping this whole time?"

"More like dreaming," Arthur replied. "I have...vague impressions of what Trollhunters did while wielding the Amulet. And there's been...moments, occasional conversations with other Trollhunters."

Jim felt a moment of discomfort, the same he felt anytime he remembered his spirit would end up here when he died. If he'd been able to spend time hanging out with Arthur, and maybe some of the nicer Trollhunters, it wouldn't be much worse than some other possible afterlives. Sleeping unless another Trollhunter was willing to talk to him, dreaming of endless fights against evil, sounded...a lot less appealing.

"So...Merlin?"

"What do you want to know about him? Plenty of Trollhunters have met him - dude was around for like a thousand years before the Battle of Killahead...though he hasn't been seen since."

"He died?"

Arthur snorted. "He isn't _human_ enough to die."

"Wha-" Jim felt a moment of disorientation. "How did you manage to read Harry Potter in here?"

"What?" Arthur raised one dark eyebrow. "I was talking about - he's half demon. I don't know _how_ you go about killing someone like that. Same thing with Morgana - if anyone tells you she's dead, they don't know what they're talking about. A Lady of the Winter Court is a formidable foe, even without the mastery of magic she possesses. And forget that nonsense about 'cold iron'; it's just superstition."

"Can you go back to the demon thing?" Jim had seen something like that in his research, but had dismissed it as just another weird version of the story. "Like, it seems people might have been worried about that."

"Not really. His father _was_ the Devil - or something close to it. But some enterprising priest baptized him at birth, protecting him from the taint of his demonic lineage." Arthur gave Jim a wry grin.

"Huh." It...well, it sounded like something medieval priests would say to justify keeping a wizard around. But Jim didn't know enough about demons _or_ Christianity to argue. "Where'd you hear all this, anyway?"

"I told you I can remember bits and pieces of Trollhunters' lives." Arthur shrugged. "But let's stop talking about him - even if he isn't dead, he isn't hanging around helping you, so thinking about him is a waste of time. _I_ want to hear more about Gun Robot."

It was a nice conversation to end the night on; among other things, Arthur was pretty certain Jim was no longer likely to get himself killed through mediocre swordsmanship, a decision he'd made a month _after_ Draal did.

Jim was actually feeling confident about what might happen when Gunmar finally made his move - he didn't just have _his_ skills to rely on, but Toby's and Draal's and Angor Rot's. 

He shared this thought with Toby at lunch, who nodded sagely before asking, "Do you think Claire would go to the Spring Fling if I asked her?"

"What?"

Toby jerked his head toward Claire Nuñez and her friends, who were tucked together at the corner of the cafeteria, clearly in conference over something important.

" _What_?"

"I mean, even if she's not, like, a good pick as a girlfriend, she knows how to rock."

"Yeah, but-" Jim cut himself off. Claire wasn't the enemy; it was easy to forget that when she'd been fighting to keep the Killahead Bridge open, when her biggest priority wasn't finding a way to kill Gunmar.

"I don't know; I've heard she's pulled out of most of her extracurricular activities. Eli said Darci said she's working day and night to find a way into the Darklands that doesn't involve breaking into the Janus Order and using my severed hand to activate the Killahead Bridge."

"Wait. What?" Toby narrowed his eyes at Claire and her friends. "Okay, she is going off the 'potential dates to the dance' list."

"I think Eli might have been joking. Besides, that sounds more like an idea Darci would have come up with."

"Hm." Toby had a thoughtful look in his eye, but Jim was spared further discussion on the subject by the arrival of Eli.

He looked nervous, which was unusual for him nowadays. Having helped Steve _burn down_ the closest headquarters to the Order of Dawn as an elaborate means of telling them he did not want to stay in their club had put something in Eli's step - confidence, definitely. And Steve seemed to be trying to keep a low profile, or at least had decided to leave Eli alone, which could only help.

"Hey, dude!" Toby reached up a fist, jiggling it a little until Eli offered his own to bump in reply. "What's up?"

"Um." Eli shifted a little in place, looking away from Jim. "There are...some people. Who sort of want to talk to you, Jim."

"Like what kind of people? Blinky's got my phone number."

Eli shook his head. "No. Not...Blinky. But you should bring him. And Draal. And probably your mom. You're all...um. Going to want to talk about it." He paused and winced. "But you...probably shouldn't tell…" He jerked his head toward Kellor, currently in her human shape as 'Kelly'. "Just right now. Until...well. Yeah."

Jim glanced at Toby, who offered a shrug, placing the decision in Jim's court (dude pulled the 'reincarnation of a troll king' card when he called shotgun, but was just an ordinary high school student when big decisions were to be made). And Jim wasn't certain about a meeting Eli didn't want Angor Rot to know about.

"Look, just think about it," Eli said. "Meet me by the library after school if you're interested."

That mysterious summons kept with Jim for the rest of the day, but despite hours of thinking of nothing _but_ the request, Jim didn't end the day with any idea what he was going to do about it.

He was so distracted, in fact, that when Shannon Longhannon approached him at his locker at the end of the day, he managed to nod his way through the conversation without hearing a word she said. 

He only came back to himself when Toby slid up to Jim's locker and held up his fist. "That was smooth, Jimbo."

"Smoo - what?" Jim bumped Toby's fist absently. "What did I do?"

"When Shannon asked you to the Spring Fling. All 'sure, yeah, I'll see you there'."

"...What?"

Toby stepped up and clapped a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just-" Jim shook his head. "Worried about this meeting."

"We don't have to-"

"I think we do." There was a second of silence before Jim's brain finally caught up to current events. "Did you say I've got a date to the dance?" Toby was still laughing when Jim called his mom, who was vocally as skeptical as he felt.

"Look, I can get over there in ten minutes, but tell Eli if this goes more than half an hour we're going to have to cut it short, because I am _not_ leaving you in a mysterious meeting with some guy Eli met on the internet alone."

Jim's next call was to Blinky, because Eli had suggested it, but also because Blinky probably knew Eli better than any of them.

"No, I'm not certain what Elijah might want. He has proven quite adept at keeping secrets when he wants to. If you can afford a detour to the bridge, I may be able to hitch along." There was an unintelligible rumble on the other line. "No, I'm not. Jim and Toby and Elijah and Dr. Lake are going to be there. I'll be perfectly safe." Another pause. "I have seen Dr. Lake's vehicle, and you would _not_ fit in the back. I'm sorry, Jim, but I have a pressing argument. Call once you've arrived."

Toby was smirking when Jim hung up. "What?"

"I just think those two are cute."

"You're biased because _you're_ the one who got them together." Jim started toward the library, Toby following. "Blinky asked me why different countries had different kisses, and it took me _five minutes_ to realize he was asking about French kissing and I never want to be in that position again."

Toby snickered. "Come on, dude. They've known each other for like forever. I think it's sweet."

It sort of was, but Jim was committed to being exasperated, especially given the thirty percent chance Aaarrrgghh still tried to come along, despite it being four in the afternoon in May, and thus impossible for someone Aaarrrgghh's size to stay out of the sunlight.

He paused at the entrance to the library when he saw Mr. Strickler sitting across from Eli at one of the tables, chatting amiably. Mr. Strickler had the relaxed set to his shoulders, genuine smile that suggested he'd be willing to sit there for hours if no one stopped him. Jim glanced back at Toby, who shrugged, so he led Toby toward the table, trying to think of a way to get Mr. Strickler out of there so they could talk to Eli about whatever-

"Mr. Domzalski. James. I'm glad you could make it. Will anyone else be joining us?"

"...What."

"Dr. Lake. And if we're going somewhere…"

"Yes. We've had some debate about what constitutes a neutral location, and the high school was not it."

"We're bringing...another friend."

Mr. Strickler stood and gave Toby a neutral glance. "I hope it is not Angor Rot. He is...unlikely to be understanding about all of this."

"No," Jim replied, mind scrambling for a foothold. Because Mr. Strickler was among the last people he'd expect to know anything about...everything. But he couldn't find the words to ask, and Toby seemed struck dumb, as well. Because the options of how Mr. Strickler knew about what was going on were few, and Jim bet Toby's brain had settled on the most brain-breaking one.

Jim's mom was waiting outside, but when she saw Mr. Strickler, she, too paused.

"Walter?"

"Good afternoon, Barbara. I trust you'll want to drive your son to where this little meeting is taking place."

"I…" She glanced at Jim, who shrugged helplessly. "Why don't you come with me, too...Eli, right?"

"I'm fine, Dr. Lake-"

"No, why don't you, okay?" She was eyeing Mr. Strickler carefully, and Jim didn't blame her. Jim had never felt uncomfortable around Mr. Strickler, but he was suddenly aware how much there was he didn't know about the man. Whether a wizard, changeling, or something else entirely, there was a gap in Mr. Strickler's past that loomed over the proceedings.

In the car, heading towards the troll bridge, Jim's mom glanced back at Eli. "I'd really like to know what's going on here, Eli. Walter is...not who I'd expect to be wrapped up in the sort of thing you get yourself involved in."

"With all due respect, Dr. Lake, there are things you can't tell just by looking at a person."

"There are things, though, you should be able to tell after having coffee with them twice a week for six months," she retorted. "And I would like to know how much danger I'm letting my son walk into."

"Mr. Strickler doesn't want to hurt anyone," Eli protested. "It's just...complicated."

And Eli stuck with that explanation until they reached the bridge, and beyond, even with Blinky quizzing him from the backseat. Jim's mom narrowed her eyes several minutes into their drive away from the bridge.

"Mom?"

"Just give it a minute, Jim." Her face shifted to a frown, and then a scowl, as they pulled up to an unassuming house.

"Mom?"

"This is Walter's house." She stepped out and shut the door with a clipped motion. Jim scrambled out before she could get near Mr. Strickler, almost afraid she was going to hit him. "I want to know what he's playing at."

"Yeah, but-"

"Ah! Is everyone here, Herr Strickler?" The man approaching them was short, dark-haired, and moved slowly, furtively, as he came close. "The less time we are out in the open-"

"Yes, come on. Barbara?"

She gave Mr. Strickler a sharp glare before following him. Eli and Toby fell back to help Blinky get inside without being exposed to the sun, and then…

Mr. Strickler sat them down at a wide dining table, though not quite large enough to fit Blinky along with everyone else. Mr. Strickler and his friend sat on one side, Blinky and Eli on another, Jim's mom on the third, and Jim and Toby on the fourth. 

"Tea?" Mr. Strickler asked, once everyone was seated.

"I think we'd rather hear what's going on," Jim's mom snapped, settling back with arms folded against her chest.

Mr. Strickler shrugged and glanced to his friend. "I think Otto can explain it better than I."

With five pairs of eyes turned on him, Otto cleared his throat, tugged at his collar. "Ah. For those who don't know me, I am Otto, Grand Commandant of the Janus Order."

Jim's hand was out without even thinking. "For the Glory-"

"Yes, yes, we know the invocation. I'm _not_ here to harm you, Mr. Lake. Any of you. You see, Stricklander had a falling out with our organization-"

"Wait," Toby said.

"What?" Jim asked.

"Walter, you have five seconds," Jim's mom said. Even. Flat. Jim had never heard that tone, and yet he was certain it meant if his mom wasn't satisfied she was walking out of here only after setting the place on fire.

Mr. Strickler seemed to understand too, because he spread his hands out, trying to calm the room, as he turned to Jim's mom. "I _am_ a changeling. But not lately of the Janus Order; we had a difference of opinion of how to handle your son's status as the Trollhunter."

Jim felt a wash of shock and relief when he realized-

"You were that troll at Killahead! The one fighting Claire!"

Mr. Strickler nodded, and _knowing_ , Jim could see the resemblance, in the stance, the expression, the two of them shared.

"Then what has all this been about? Getting my son alone? Dragging me out for coffee?"

"I agreed to help your son," Mr. Strickler said, voice a little strained. " _Before_ I knew he was the Trollhunter. Which I did as my duty as an educator. I did not betray him to the Janus Order, and as noted, our differences in the matter of how to treat your son proved...terminal."

"In _any_ case," Otto pressed on.

"And what about _coffee_?"

"Oh my gosh Dr. Lake he's been trying to ask you out _can we get to the trollhunting now_?"

Toby flushed when everyone stared at him after that outburst. "Sorry."

"No, it's alright. I'd like to hear what Otto has to say."

"Yes. Well." Otto glanced at Mr. Strickler speculatively, but looked away, to the surface of the table, in response to Mr. Strickler's glare. "The Janus Order has recently come under intense scrutiny from an organization with which you should be familiar - the Order of Dawn. And whatever your feelings about _our_ goals, you should at least acknowledge the danger these maniacs pose."

"You want our _help_ ," Toby scoffed. "You're trying to _kill_ Jim! You're trying to bring back a guy who wants to kill _all humans_!"

"Regardless, I suspect allowing them to expose and kill every changeling alive is not a fate Mr. Lake wishes to feel responsible for." Otto shot Jim a sharp smile before waving at Mr. Strickler. " _I_ came to Stricklander for help; it was _his_ suggestion to come to you."

"Mr. Strickler?" Jim didn't think it was like Mr. Strickler to push him to align himself with - well, the Janus Order weren't much better than the Order of Dawn at the end of the day. But Mr. Strickler's pained expression at the revelation suggested…

Well, Sloane didn't like believing the story on the surface. Sure, it made him a paranoid wreck, but thinking a lot about people’s motivations wasn’t the worst idea.

And he didn’t think Mr. Strickler would teach them about history’s worst atrocities and be supporting one.

So what would make the Janus Order better than the Order of Dawn?

Trolls wiping out humans wasn’t better than the opposite.

But then again, changelings weren’t exactly trolls, so long-

So long as they had a familiar.

Following orders wasn’t exactly a good excuse, but hostages - hostages were in a different situation altogether.

Jim glanced at his mom, who was glowering, tight-lipped, at Mr. Strickler, and Toby, who was eyeing Otto anxiously. Eli had helped orchestrate this meeting, so his feelings were clear. 

Jim wished for a day or two to think it over, and almost asked for it, but then he took a careful look at Otto. Who was shifting in his seat. Kept glancing at Mr. Strickler. Not at Jim.

He’d gone to Mr. Strickler for help. Who’d betrayed the Janus Order to keep Jim safe.

Otto _needed_ this, whether the help came from Jim or Mr. Strickler or Merlin himself. And remembering what he’d seen the Order of Dawn do, Jim couldn’t blame Otto.

Nor could he bring himself to let the Order of Dawn claim a win, certain he was right that there were people he could reach in the Janus Order.

“I’m in.”

—-

Nomura was humming to herself. Grieg, as it were, as she was feeling particularly whimsical. ‘To hell with the world’, the particular dream of the changeling. But Zelda Nomura couldn’t say ‘to hell with the world’, not when the slightest misstep could end with her facing at best enough solitude to drive anyone mad.

That or being forced to join her mother’s crusade. Nomura felt a pang of envy of sailors who only had to deal with Scylla and Charybdis, rather than Natsume Nomura and Otto Scarbach.

A quiet sound, like a blow or something falling, came from outside Nomura’s door; she shifted, wavering between preparing to fight and at least take someone with her, and just giving up.

The doorknob rattled. There was a muffled curse and then a metallic hand punched through the door and pulled, crumpling metal with the force behind it.

Nomura knew only one creature who over the centuries had never mastered doorknobs. 

And indeed, it was Bular who stepped through the now-open door. Not dead, as the Order believed, but the Second Battle of Killahead had left its scars, given the two new limbs Bular was sporting, sturdy and functional, adamant, if she correctly judged the color in the flashes beneath the cloak and hood wrapped around him.

“Aren’t you a little tall to be a stormtrooper?”

“What?” Bular scowled, in the slightly hesitant way when he didn’t know what was going on but suspected he was being made fun of.

“It’s - never mind, it would take more time to explain than we have. I _do_ assume we’re on a schedule. Unless you’re here to make good on your threats to eat me if I failed you.”

“No. I’m here to get you out of here.”

The options were few, but neither likely to please her. Stricklander would moralize at her, and her mother would guilt her.

Regardless, a way out was a way out.

So she trailed after Bular, finding the security cameras dark, lights dimmed, and surprised to find fewer bloody corpses than she’d expected from his entry. None, in fact. She toyed with the idea that Otto was playing some game of his own devising, but if so, he wouldn’t have bothered with the prosthetics; they were an unnecessary detail that could only blow his cover.

Something had changed in the months (two? Three?) since Nomura had been imprisoned here, and though it was objectively better Bular wasn’t threatening her, it was...unnerving. There was a plan, she knew, one that hinged on Bular, and she wondered if they’d found something like the Decimaar Blade, to bend his will, change his mind for them.

“You were not to blame,” Bular growled as they passed several masked changelings, unconscious but not dead, not even bleeding, “for my loss. I underestimated the Trollhunter and his allies. The Order should not have treated you as such.”

Not an apology, but then, Bular hadn’t been responsible for what the Order had done when they believed him dead.

“I kept things from them. Who Stricklander works for. His allies’ names.”

“Only one, I think. But we find it hard to turn on family, don’t we?”

Nomura was bright enough to know what Stricklander and her mother hoped to accomplish. To see now how they meant to do it.

She might not have been on Stricklander’s and her mother’s side, but she had no desire to see what Gunmar would do to them if they tried and failed.

“You know Daylight cannot kill him.”

“Neither blade nor spell, man nor troll, natural thing nor made one. Yes, I _know_."

Bular scowled, a brief, fierce expression, and Nomura knew somehow, Strickler had won him over in his little crusade. Maybe the prospect of a lifetime under his father's heel chafed Bular as much as it did the rest of them. But it had to be something else, or Strickler wouldn't have brought him in. Her _mother_ wouldn't have trusted him to get her out of here.

She didn't know if a guy who'd bought into the Janus Shadow Order or whatever they called themselves would be any better than what they had now.

But there was always a place for enterprising souls to take advantage during a regime change.

And it wasn't like throwing in with Bular would erode Nomura's chances of surviving the coming storm.

Especially once Morgana got here.


	12. Darkest Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude at the Spring Fling.

**Camelot, AD 516**

Three boys were sprawled along the battlements of the great castle of Camelot - one dark, one light, and one somewhere in between - eyes dark, hair a dirty blond. The middle one was of a wider build than the others, and the dark was leaned up against him, while the pale was laying along the very edge, watching the sky.

"Do you think we'll still be like this in twenty years?" the medium one asked.

"Sixteen?" the dark one asked. "No."

"No, you ass. Friends."

"Brothers," the light one corrected.

"Are we talking in the biological sense, or the 'all men are brothers in Christ' sense?" the middle one asked. "Because I'm a filthy pagan and you and I share no relations."

"He's being metaphorical," the dark one retorted. "You don't have to answer the question if you don't want to."

"No, I - I want to." The middle one didn't speak for a moment.

" _And_?" the dark one prompted.

"I said. I _want to be_. But who knows what the future holds?"

"The Krubera," the dark one suggested. "Raum. Ombric the Undying. God, too, I suppose - if you believe in that sort of thing."

The light one smiled gently at him. "Well, I wouldn't take what any of them have to say seriously; I have _faith_ we'll be close for years to come. Like-" He paused, considering. "Well, _not_ like Mom and the dads, but, you know, _close_."

There was silence for a few moments before the middle one spoke up. "I love you guys, you know that?"

"Oh, hey, come here," the dark one muttered, scrambling down to pull them in close. "Love you too. And promise if one of us goes off the deep end, the other two will slap some sense into them?"

The middle one smirked. "Yeah, if Galahad goes mad with power, I'll _gladly_ slap him."

"Oh, _fuck you_!" the light one, Galahad, snapped, shoving them both away.

"How much penance does one 'fuck' require?"

"Oh, my _goodness_ , you two, I can say 'fuck'!"

The dark one clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "I was almost sold on this whole Jesus thing, Gal, but I can't get behind a religion that's so lax about curse words."

"Yeah, like your mom'd let you worship a _carpenter_ ," the middle one drawled. "Come on, let's drop the theological debate before someone pushes someone off the castle walls. _Again_."

"Sorry, Gawain," Galahad and the dark boy said in unison.

Gawain grinned and tugged them back in. "Now. Isn't it better when we all like each other?"

The dark one huffed, but he was smiling. "Yeah, it'd be a _nightmare_ running around this place without you two."

\---

**The Present**

Draal was watching Jim as he gave his hair one last examination. Not trusting the Janus Order not to use this alliance as an opportunity to murder Jim, Draal had taken to hovering like Jim wasn't a perfectly competent warrior and _not_ Draal's problem.

"So this is a human courting ritual?"

"No? Sort of? I don't know, some people treat it that way. But Toby - he says there's like no chance of making a relationship out of a school dance, so you might as well have fun with it. Didn't you - I don't think I've seen a troll school." And on that matter, Jim hadn't seen a troll _kid_. "Um. Do you guys have troll babies?"

"Not often, even before…"

The pause there was significant, something, Jim bet, every troll knew, but he, the guy thrown into a centuries-old war between trolls with no context, didn't.

"Before what?"

Draal sighed. "You have a - date - to get to."

"I'm early. You _know_ I'm early."

Draal patted the top of Jim's desk. "Then sit."

Jim did, and Draal stepped back, for his size, making Jim feel like a child. He could imagine being a child troll, hearing this story, one every troll must have known, for the first time.

"When the Earth was still half-formed, a sage and a warrior came to walk upon its cooling stone. The Lord of Flowers."

"Flowers? I didn't think trolls would tell stories about flowers."

"This isn't a story; it's _history_ ," Draal growled. "And this sage was called the Lord of Flowers. He carried with him a light, and where the light fell, stones were filled with _life_. We call these stones Heartstones, those that carry the light of creation within them, the power to make stone breathe and walk and speak."

"Like, do trolls come _out of_ the Heartstones?"

Draal shot Jim a narrow glare. "Don't be stupid. But without living within the light of a Heartstone, without feeling its warmth, a troll may not have progeny."

"And…" Jim felt a chill, a shiver of sadness. "You said something happened."

"The Lord of Flowers spent ages walking this world, carrying the light with him, rejuvenating our Heartstones, and creating new ones. And then...he vanished. The light vanished. As the Heartstones began to weaken, some trolls made a...terrible choice. Because even without a Heartstone, a troll may still bear, or create, children, by-"

"Eating people."

Draal nodded once, sadly. "Any thinking creature, but your people were the easiest prey...at first. Among our people were trolls who thought this was a perversion of the light that gave us life...and those who felt anything was worth preserving our people."

"Gumm Gumms."

"Yes. There was a war, and through the violence, one of our Heartstones was _corrupted_ , and from it born three trolls twisted by darkness. Gunmar was one of them."

Jim felt a chill down his spine. "And there's two _more_ like him?"

"No. His eldest brother was called Grendel, and was slain by a human warrior."

Jim hissed, surprised to hear _that_ name. "Yeah. I've heard about that. And the other one?"

"Fin, his sister, had no interest in children. Instead, she sought the secret of eternal life, and has not been heard from since."

And while it was nice to know Jim wouldn't have to face down Gunmar's siblings, the story raised worrying questions, the most immediate being-

"Are - the trolls _dying_?"

Draal sighed. "A troll can live two, three thousand years. But with no new Heartstones, no newborn whelps...yes. Our people are dying."

"And no one's looking for the Lord of Flowers? For the - the light he carried that made the Heartstones?"

"Why? It's just a story."

"But you said-"

"What does it matter if the Lord of Flowers is real? If his light could revitalize our people? Where could we find him? How would we recognize him? Maybe he is dead, maybe he has abandoned us! We can fight Gumm Gumms and men who would destroy our people. Hunting for the Lord of Flowers is fishing in the Deep - a waste of time at best, and liable to get you killed." He huffed and yanked Jim up by his shoulder. "But you are supposed to be preparing for a dance."

Jim wished he could turn it off and on like that, be talking about the death of his people in one breath, and school dances the next. But then, trolls might still outlive humanity, so worrying about them might be a waste of energy.

Still, driving his mom's car for the first time by himself (well, without parental supervision; Toby was riding shotgun), Jim supposed having a thousand-year lifespan gave you practice not worrying about the things you couldn't do anything about _today_. And Jim had a date who didn't deserve him worrying about the decline of trollkind the whole evening.

Although, he wouldn't be surprised if _Toby's_ date did that.

"Okay, let's go over the rules for the evening," Toby said. "First, no trollhunting unless Gunmar literally breaks down the doors of the gym."

"But-"

" _Nothing_ is going to happen that can't wait a couple of hours. Second, pay attention to your date. At least one out of three dances, or listen attentively to whatever she wants to talk about."

"Aw, come on, you can just shut up and let Eli chatter on about whatever; I have to like, answer questions. Like what do I do if Shannon asks what I do for fun?"

"Say you don't have fun," Toby replied. "Or ask her to dance. See?"

"Is that all?" Jim sighed.

"Nope, rule 3, _ask_ before you kiss anyone."

"...Yeah, fair."

Jim pulled up to the school, parked, and turned to Toby. He gave Toby what he hoped was a confident smile. "Okay, I think I got it. You ready?"

"Oh my gosh, he's got a fucking suit jacket on."

"What?" Jim turned and saw Eli Pepperjack, in a suit jacket, dark jeans, and red dress shirt. And where Eli normally looked lost in whatever he was wearing, he looked - put together. And then he waved, hopping a little in place, a reminder that the clothes held the same excitable dork who'd always been hanging around.

"Huh, he sort of cleans up well, doesn't he?"

"I was more banking on him being able to shake it on the dance floor," Toby replied. "Hey, dude!"

Jim climbed out of the car while Toby greeted his date, and scanned the parking lot. He didn't _see_ Shannon, but she could have been inside already. So he trailed Toby and Eli, the latter moving hesitantly next to Toby.

There were students milling around inside, although a steady flow were heading to the gym. And next to the trophy case was Shannon, in a dark, shimmery dress that hung loose enough at the skirt to swirl a little when she turned. She waved at Jim, smiling gently.

"Hey."

"Hi. Um. You look nice. Not that you don't normally look nice, just - that dress suits you. Matches your glasses?"

"Thanks. You look nice, too." She held out a hand. "Shall we head in?"

"Ah. Yeah."

Shannon, as it turned out, was there for the dancing, so it was an hour before they broke for punch. Shannon was telling Jim about a TV show he'd missed in the last nine months of fighting monsters.

"I mean, it's terrible, oh, I hate saying that, but it is. But, like, so enthusiastic. Not dark like everything else on TV."

"Yeah, dark, getting sort of sick of that."

"And what about you? What have you been getting up to?"

"...You ever see Gun Robot?"

Shannon grinned. "I hear your _ringtone_ whenever your mom calls you. I guess you're a fan?"

...He had, once, before the 'secret defender of Earth' thing had started being something he couldn't escape by turning off the TV. "I mean, good thing to watch while I'm cooking."

"Oh, right, Jim Lake, Master Chef! Is that what you want to do when you grow up?"

Jim sort of wanted to _survive_ growing up. "Heh. Maybe. What about you?"

"Get married, have a couple of kids, eradicate every preventable infectious disease if I have to personally vaccinate every person on the planet myself."

"Aw, you're selling yourself short, Shannon. You should cure a couple of the incurable ones, too."

She snorted. "That's sweet, Jim. But I know my limits." She grinned at him, and behind them, the music slowed. "Want to keep dancing?"

"Yeah." Jim held out a hand.

\---

"I don't know why I let you two drag me out here," Claire muttered. "Raum said I've nearly gotten the hang of it - we could get in and out of the Darklands before curfew."

"And?" Mary grabbed Claire and spun her, twisting in the opposite direction. "You've been reading, or studying, or arguing with that stupid bird for weeks! You need one night to relax." 

Claire wanted to argue, but she had to admit it was true. Between school and homework and training with the Shadowstaff, which now included deep meditation with Raum, the oracular crow...demon or something, she _had_ been stressed.

"Alright." She glanced at Darci. "Wanna see if you can get the DJ to play some Papa Skulls?"

"I'll do one better," Darci said, eyes fixed on a dark-haired boy flailing incoherently at the far end of the gym. "I'll swap out for someone ten _times_ better."

"Wait." Claire reached out for Darci, but she was already pushing her way through the mob of dancing students. Claire turned back to Mary. "We should stop her-"

" _Why_? We're here to have _fun_ , Claire, and watching Krel Tarron steal the DJ booth to play his terrible music _is_ fun."

Mary tugged Claire to the side of the dance floor and got her a drink so they would have a clear view of the entertainment.

Which, when Aja showed up, pointing at various parts of the mixer while the DJ tried to ignore her, was pretty entertaining. He got increasingly irritated, as Claire knew someone without a lot of patience _could_ when exposed to Aja's particular brand of intelligence, enthusiasm, and a relentless inability to take a hint. Eventually he threw up his hands and stalked off; Aja gave Krel a high five as she departed the booth, and grabbed Darci's hand as she hopped back to the floor.

It took thirty seconds of the terrible sounds Krel called 'dolphin music' before Aja shouted, "Hey fuckface! Play a jam! Or a bop! A _headbanger_!" She ducked into the crowd before any of the teachers could accost her for making a spectacle of herself, and then Mary dragged Claire back onto the dance floor.

Which, yeah, a few hours of mindless fun, dancing, drinking (punch, which miraculously no one spiked), watching Aja clear a ten-foot-diameter area of floor once it became clear getting near her dancing was risking a head injury, was just what Claire needed. However crass he might be in saying it, Rico was right that her brother wasn't going anywhere.

\---

There was a man waiting outside Steve's house when he got home from school. He was dressed in brown, slacks and a jacket. He, you know, _blended_ , because he was an unassuming white guy in a upper-middle-class neighborhood.

But the man put Steve on edge.

Maybe it was months of hanging around neo-Nazis giving Steve a subconscious sense of things. Maybe the experience had left him nervous around white guys. Maybe he'd been expecting something like this since he'd left one of their headquarters a smoking ruin.

"Steven."

Steve gave the guy, blue-eyed, dirty blond, a glare. "You want me to call the cops about a weird guy hanging around my house?"

"Hey, hey, Steven." The guy raised his hands, placating. "I don't want to start a fight here. Which I think is pretty generous, given what you did downtown. Burned the place down, killed a nice girl, released some _dangerous_ wildlife…" He shrugged, and Steve could see the shape of the things the man wasn't mentioning.

Well, one thing.

But a _big_ one.

"Look, I'm done with your whole...thing, okay? I just want to go about the rest of my life and never see any of you again."

"Hey, yeah. We _get_ it. Some people don't have the courage to stick with it."

"Really?" Steve had expected more...veiled threats about the matter. He'd read up about Nazis, about _cults_ , after getting away from the Order of Dawn, and this low-pressure attitude didn't fit.

"Hey, we don't want to keep anyone around who doesn't want to be here. There is just...one small matter."

"Oh?"

"You have in your possession some property belonging to us."

"Oh? _Oh_." Steve clicked his tongue and pointed at the man. "Got it. I'll be right back."

The man raised one eyebrow, but made no comment as Steve dashed inside to his room, unlocking the bottom drawer in his dresser, where he'd felt safest keeping the...item. Wrapping it up, he hurried back outside, where he handed it to the man. "There you go."

The man smirked. "You don't know how pleased we are you made this easy - what the hell is this?"

"They gave that to me when I joined. If you'd told me it was a loan, I would have left it behind."

The man's expression had darkened, a vicious scowl as he shoved the pistol in his pocket. "You _know_ this isn't what I mean."

"What _do_ you mean?" Steve tried to affect his best 'we were just talking, Teacher' expression, mastered from years of bullying. From the man's narrowed eyes, he didn't believe Steve; but then again, no one ever had.

"You killed Patience."

" _Well_ , you can't say that for sure."

" _Yes we can_. And her phylactery wasn't there."

"Have you checked her purse? Sometimes I've found girls have lost something and it turns up in the bottom of their purse."

The man stepped up, and Steve, acutely aware he'd just handed the man a _loaded pistol_ , took a step back. " _Listen_ , you little cocksucker, I know exactly how a little punk like you thinks. You make enough trouble, and we'll think twice about chasing you down. But for a phylactery - for a phylactery made from the bones of an _Archmage_ \- we'll burn this whole fucking city down, even if we don't snag a single gargoyle in the attempt."

Steve nodded, thinking for a moment. He was pretty sure the guy wasn't going to shoot him, not unless he knew for certain he could get his hands on the phylactery even after Steve was dead. But even if the guy was exaggerating, Steve knew he wouldn't hesitate to kill Steve's mom, Coach Lawrence, _anyone_ he thought might be close to Steve, to get Steve to give up the phylactery.

On the other hand…

Steve grinned at the man, a smirk, the threatening smile that could make nerds flinch at twenty yards. "I think...if you were _sure_ that would end well for you, you'd do it. But I took out _Patience_ \- a certified _psycho_ with _four_ gems in her phylactery. _Single-handedly_. You're not sure _what_ I'd do if you went after my mom. So let me paint you a picture, Adolf. I don't want to be a part of this war. I'm not getting involved in Lake's little coalition with the changelings, and I'm not giving you _anything_. You go after my mom, you lay one _finger_ on _any_ of my friends, you get to find out what I'm capable of. And when I say 'you', fucker, I mean you, personally, get to be the first one to experience _exactly_ what happens to people who _cross me_." He folded his arms, letting the grin widen. "You know Deya's Heart? The Veil of Eyes? They mean you'll _never see me coming_."

"Yeah, okay." The man nodded, dropping his hands to slip into his pockets. "I'll pass the message along. But you might want to spend some considering how dangerous we think you actually are, and what we might _risk_ for what you've got. But yeah, we'll check in on you...tomorrow. Yeah, we got some things to do, see you afterward."

It was an ominous promise, but one Steve didn't think about, because he was certain he could deal with them.

Not until nine o'clock, when Steve, who would have been at the dance if he weren't avoiding everyone to avoid getting dragged into anyone else's drama, dropped his history textbook, because of a _single word_.

 _Blitzkrieg_.

'We'll check in on you _tomorrow_ '.

Like he had plans _tonight_.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," Steve chanted as he raced his Vespa toward the school, because - because Eli had tried to drag _Steve_ into his stupid anti-Dawn alliance, and he'd forgotten that the Order of Dawn weren't his friends, weren't the same people he saw every day, _didn't already know what he knew_.

Hadn't know about the alliance between the trolls and changelings until Steve had told him.

He must have looked crazed, dressed in sweatpants, because he hadn't planned on leaving the house, eyes wild, shoving his way past the student collecting tickets at the door.

But _this was more important_ , because whatever the fuck happened to Steve later in life, he didn't want to be responsible for a genocide; it'd been the whole point of him _leaving_ the Order of Dawn. He caught sight of Eli, maybe a dozen feet away, leaning close to Domzalski.

"Pepperjack!" Eli lunged back, twisting to face Steve. He looked - shocked, at first, but then annoyed, brows drawing in.

"What - what the _hell_ , Palchuk? I'm a little-"

"Pepperjack, we - we got a problem."


	13. Dawnbringer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the dawn of a new age.

**Camlan, AD 537**

Morgana was watching the sky. The battle had been raging since dawn, and it was fast approaching noon. Arthur's forces, though outnumbered, were slowly beating back what arms Morgana had been able to array against them, but she wasn't worried.

She didn't know how many people you had to sacrifice to put out the sun using blood magic, but luckily, she was a Lady of the Winter Court, and had a _much_ easier way to do it.

Ask the moon for a favor.

The light began to fade as the moon drifted across the sun and Morgana allowed herself a smirk.

You couldn't lead an army of trolls against your sworn enemy at noon.

Not unless there was an eclipse.

\---

**The Present**

"Toby?" Jim asked. Next to Toby, Eli was practically vibrating, and he was certain that only Jim's need to make a graceful exit was keeping Eli from sprinting to Trollmarket this instant. Because Eli had been friends with Blinky and Aaarrrgghh longer than Jim had; they were likely the first real friends he'd had.

"Yeah, this counts," Toby replied.

Jim turned to Shannon. "Okay, this has been fun, and you are a _great_ dancer. But Tobes and I-"

"I don't care if she grounds me forever, _I'm going_ ," Eli snapped.

"And Eli," Jim continued, "have something important that...came up. If I'm still alive tomorrow, I'll call you."

"What?" Shannon glanced at Eli. "Is he okay? Because he looks like he's about to have a stroke."

"Jimmmmmmm."

Jim took a deep breath. He gave Shannon what he hoped was a genuine smile. "I hate doing this, and I wish your evening could end differently, but I have to go-"

"I'm calling your mom," Toby announced. "Come on, Eli, let's get you moving."

"And I _promise_ I will call you tomorrow, providing I haven't died."

Shannon tilted her head. "Jim, are you _okay_?"

Jim laughed, knowing the sound came out hysterical. " _No_. But seriously, you're great, god that sounds terrible, and-" He glanced up, across the dance floor, "and I'm going to stride from over here right over to talk to Claire Nuñez, but it is entirely for family emergency reasons and I hope if you tell this story to people on first dates in the future you at least do so with a funny punchline. Bye!"

He sprinted through the crowd, grabbing Claire's shoulder a second before realizing it was a bad idea.

"Um-"

" _Lake_ ," Claire snarled.

"Claire," Jim said, "I need your help. The…" He lowered his voice. "trolls need help."

Claire folded her arms, expression not changing. "I told you before, Jim, my help comes with a price."

"I don't even know where the Killahead Bridge _is_!"

"Neither do I. But we've got another way in, so if you want my help, you're joining me there and back. So. You in or out?"

Jim wanted to argue, negotiate. But Eli was going to explode if they kept him any longer, and Jim was feeling anxious already.

And…

Well, going to the Darklands ran the chance of Jim facing Gunmar, and dealing with _that_ problem ahead of schedule wouldn't hurt.

"Yeah, but we gotta go deal with my thing _now_."

"Deal," Claire said.

"Witnessed!" Darci chimed.

"You coming?" Claire asked Darci.

"No. Someone's got to keep tabs on what's going on here, lie to parents, the whole thing. You should ask…" She glanced around, frown flickering onto her face. "Where's Mary?"

"We don't have time for this," Jim said. "Call her later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Darci?"

"If you're not back in 24 hours, I'll tell your parents you ran away to do porn."

"Awesome." Claire bumped Darci's fist. "Tell Rico I'll kill him if he gets into my sock drawer." She turned to Jim and nodded. "We ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

Jim caught Mr. Strickler's gaze as they fled; he jerked his head toward the exit, and saw Mr. Strickler hurrying toward his office. Eli had confided Mr. Strickler had _something_ there the Janus Order had been willing to - well, not kill for, but definitely inconvenience for. So whatever it was, he probably thought the Order of Dawn staging some sort of assault on Trollmarket warranted using it, or whatever other big guns he had on hand.

Driving toward the canals with Eli chanting, "Faster, faster, faster," in the backseat would have been stressful even _without_ the threat of the eradication of trollkind looming over them.

"Is - Toby's eyes are glowing. Is that a _new_ thing? Something we should be worried about?"

"No, he does that," Jim replied to Claire. "Tobes, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm-" Toby's phone rang; he pulled it out. "Hey, Dr. Lake? Yeah, Steve was pretty sure. Because he was hanging out with them for _months_. Well, how much do you _know_ about troll anatomy? Well, I bet the blood's supposed to be on the inside - yeah, that was a joke, sorry. Well, 'shave and a haircut' and someone'll let you in." He hung up and gave Jim a weak smile. "So your mom's coming."

"Really?" Claire asked from the backseat. "Is Toby's Nana joining us? Señor Uhl?"

"Señor Uhl doesn't know about all this," Toby replied. "Nana's holding down the fort in case we need to call in the cops on a bunch of white guys running around with guns."

Claire stared at him, eyebrows twisted in confusion. "Your Nana _knows_? And what, is Eli's mom bankrolling this expedition?"

"My mom doesn't… _approve_ , but if it's to save an entire _people_ , she'll understand."

Claire twisted her head around the car, eyebrows nearly at her hairline. "I'm supposed to be the responsible daughter of a city councilwoman - how am _I_ the only one planning to lie to my parents about sneaking away from a school function to save the world?"

"A lifetime of repression," Toby retorted. "Plus, your little brother's a troll - got to be chafing, seeing him do whatever _he_ wants."

"Ugh." Claire's frown softened, and she pulled out her phone. Waited a moment. "Hey, just wanted to say hey to Enrique - _hey_ , Rico. Wanna go to Trollmarket? No, correction. We're helping Jim kill Nazis or whatever; get your butt in gear."

The bridge was quiet, at least until they spilled out of the car to crowd around the blank wall. "Hey, guys, back in! I'm not leaving my mom's car out here, so Toby, we're going to need a _big_ door."

Jim got a salute for his troubles. "Aye aye, Mr. Trollhunter sir." And the gravity thing came in handy when drawing a door to Trollmarket, even when it was just the two of them. Jim, though, feeling more like Sloane than himself, watched the edges of the canals while Toby worked drawing the arch.

A sudden rolling motion made him freeze, but it was Draal, bouncing to a stop next to the car. He was huffing, almost growling.

"James."

"Draal - what were you-"

"Keeping an eye on things; just because we have a common goal doesn't mean we should trust the Janus Order. And good thing, too, or I might have missed your call. Mrs. Dom - _Nana_ \- is taking Dr. Lake to the hospital for supplies."

"Good, cool." Behind them, the gate to Trollmarket opened; Eli pounded on the horn.

"Let's _go_ , Lake!"

"Go on ahead," Draal said, waving them on. "I'll watch your back."

It struck Jim then, that they were going into battle again. That people were going to die tonight was a given; the Order of Dawn wouldn't rest until they'd wiped trollkind from the face of the earth, which meant there was only one solution.

Render the enemy unable or unwilling to continue the fight.

Which, given they'd survived World War II, they wouldn't give up without heavy casualties.

"Jim?" Toby was holding Eli's hand back from the car horn. "You okay?"

Jim took a deep breath. "Yeah. Let's do this."

Toby had called ahead, so Trollmarket was in a flurry of activity. Trolls were building barricades under Angor Rot's watchful eye; when Jim, having parked the car at the bottom of the stairs, approached, he was carving something out of…

"What is that?"

Angor Rot looked up and gave Jim a sharp-toothed grin. "Living stone." The carving was of a crude humanoid figure, which he waved at Jim. "It taxes the Quartz Heart to heal these wounds, but I felt my golems, crude though they are, are a fitting tool to bring to bear against the Dawnbringer's war of extermination." He looked up at Draal, eyes narrowing. "Start sorting these people out - we don't need anyone trying to fight who'll just get themselves killed."

Draal saluted, and blurred into motion. Angor Rot looked back down at Jim, frowning. Jim resisted the urge to salute, or stand at attention; he wasn't an Eclipse Knight, beholden to Angor Rot.

But this wasn't Jim's home, either, so he paid attention.

"Kellor spoke highly of yours and Tobias' actions when you defended the Quagawumps. Before I ask you to join us in battle, though, I must be certain. You are willing to fight these humans, to kill them, without hesitation, without doubt?"

With changelings, Jim knew, he might hesitate. Uncertain whether they were there by choice, or by the threat of Gunmar's rule. But the Order of Dawn…

Anyone who came to Heartstone Trollmarket under the banner of the Order of Dawn, had chosen a life of violence and hatred. Wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone in their way.

"Yes." Angor Rot didn't ask Toby or Eli, though his gaze did rest, briefly, on Claire, and the dark stone of the Skath-Hrün.

"Mulder! Wingman!" Jim gave Toby a sidelong look; Toby shrugged, giving him a weak grin. Aaarrrgghh thundered toward them at a fast clip, hopping up as he reached them. "Blinky say-" He paused, as if noticing Angor Rot for the first time. "Um."

"Aaarrrgghh. I trust, even if you will not raise your hand against these monsters, you will make some difference in our defense against them."

Aaarrrgghh narrowed his eyes, the hint of a glow to them, and to the carvings along his skin. "Protect Trollmarket. Protect Jim."

"And how many will die in the attempt? If you only fought to your full strength-"

"If Aaarrrgghh start fighting again, might not stop. As for dying...how many lives worth the end of Order of Dawn?"

Angor Rot snorted. "Come, Trollhunter. Your friend can help build barricades; _we_ will discuss Trollmarket's defenses." Angor Rot didn't seem to object to Toby's, Eli's, or even Claire's presences, as he led them to the Heartstone.

Jim found himself staring at it for some sense of dimming, and...maybe it was his imagination, but looking for it, he thought he could see a dark spot in it. How long did they have before Heartstone Trollmarket was just...Trollmarket? The part of him that was beginning to think like Sloane wondered...who gained from the trolls fighting amongst each other, rather than trying to find the Lord of Flowers, or the light he carried? The part of him that was beginning to think like Tiffany thought…

Was it _wise_ , hoping to return trolls to their former glory?

Vendel, the elderly troll with spreading horns, was waiting for them, though he glowered at the sight of Claire. "I suppose in times like this, I cannot be choosy about our allies. Where is Kellor?"

"As my squire, she may heed her own counsel. If she is not here, it is because she thinks it best."

"Well, I would have preferred another pair of hands, especially since we don't know how long we have before they attack."

"When's sunrise?" Claire asked.

"Nautical twilight is at 5:39 AM," Eli replied.

"Okay, when's _sunrise_?"

"6:35, but that's not the question you wanted the answer to. The question you wanted the answer to was: when do the rays of the sun start becoming a problem for trolls aboveground, which is nautical twilight. And I agree with Claire. The Order of Dawn doesn't think we know anything about their attack, so they'd want to attack when the trolls have nowhere to go."

"Agreed. They are a sadistic lot. But that delay will be to their detriment. We will have _ample_ time to prepare. Come on, let's see what Rot and Guts can be persuaded to release."

"Blinkous has already been to see them," Vendel called out as Angor Rot turned. "Cleared out their supply of dwarkstones."

Angor Rot paused. Reached up to rub at his head. "As long as he doesn't end up blowing us all up."

Jim had heard the phrase 'hurry up and wait'; it was a military expression, he thought, and it definitely applied here. Jim's mother showed up, trailed by Mr. Strickler and Rico, and she dragged both of them with her to set up a field hospital. At Rico's protest, she pointed out the Geneva Convention meant people left medics alone, which cheered him considerably (Jim was pretty sure she was aware the Order of Dawn didn't abide by the Geneva Convention, but whatever kept them calm, he guessed). And then there was more rushing, building walls and chokepoints, and dragging out of Blinky the location of the explosives he'd scattered around town. 

But after all that, they were left just waiting. Toby found the focus to nap, and Claire had claimed she was just resting, but had fallen asleep almost immediately on sitting on their perch overlooking the path to the surface.

Eli was sitting some ways away, watching the path to the surface. His frown looked...disappointed, Jim thought.

"Um. I'm sorry all this troll stuff ruined your night."

"What?" Eli jerked his head around, seemingly only just noticing Jim.

"You and Toby looked like you were having fun before Steve showed up."

Eli shrugged, though his cheeks darkened as he replied. "Yeah, well, it's just a dance. There'll be other dances."

"Yeah, well, don't go breaking his heart."

"It's a _dance_ , Jim, not a marriage proposal," Eli sputtered. "Toby isn't looking for a boyfriend."

"Nevertheless." Eli laughed, a little helpless, but didn't protest again. It was quiet a moment before Jim remembered Eli had looked upset, "What's got you looking worried?"

"I don't know," Eli grumbled, but his fingers were drumming at the plaster of their current perch.

"Come on. We don't want you distracted for the big fight."

Eli huffed, shoulders slumping as he turned back to the spiral path. "I hoped...he'd show up."

"Who?"

"...Steve. After I helped him get out of the Order of Dawn, after he warned us - but he just ran."

"I...not everyone's like you or Toby, jumping at the chance for adventure. Some of us are more like...me. They don't want to fight if they have a choice."

Eli laughed, and Toby shifted, grunted. Claire, who'd ended up with her head on his shoulder, jolted away, Skathe-Hrün telescoping out with a flick of her wrist. "I'm up!"

"Calm down. The Order of Dawn isn't here yet."

Claire clicked her tongue and scooted away from Toby, sitting back. "Is it bad I sort of want them to hurry up and come to kill us all already?"

"Aren't they just here for the trolls?"

Eli shook his head. "A Jew, a Latina, a Polish kid, and a guy who's got a magical artifact they want who won't give it to them as long as he's alive? We're just as much in the crosshairs as the trolls are - more so for being traitors to our race." He frowned. "If I had to rank their preferred targets, I'd guess - Angor Rot, Jim, Vendel, Draal...Blinky. We're not high on the list unless we make ourselves threats."

"Every Nazi targeting us is one fewer Nazi trying to kill innocent trolls." Toby cracked his neck and stretched before standing. He'd begged a hammer made of adamant out of the armory, twice as heavy as the last warhammer he'd used, and thus impossible to wield except that Toby had been practicing making things he _touched_ lighter or heavier. So despite its weight, he swung it up to rest casually across his shoulders. "Right?"

"Yeah," Jim agreed. There'd been talk of evacuating trolls through the Gyre, but even the weakest of the trolls wouldn't abandon Trollmarket. So instead they were holed up in the Heroes' Forge, which could at least be easily defended.

Eli was suddenly next to Jim, face set, serious. He grabbed Jim's shoulders so Jim was forced to look at him.

"Um. Eli?"

"Steve isn't like you. You say you didn't have a choice, but you _do_ , and you _keep making it_. Toby says you should make _yourself_ a target to protect the trolls, and you agree. If Steve were one- _tenth_ the man you are, he'd be here."

"He is correct."

Jim yelped at the unexpected voice, grabbed at the Amulet of Daylight, which-

Wasn't there.

Angor Rot, towering over him, grinned, and held down the Amulet to Jim. "You should keep a closer eye on this, Trollhunter. You made your choice, and that means you must take it seriously."

"Thanks," Jim retorted, fumbling with the amulet. He held it up and repeated, "For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command."

Angor Rot was scowling when the light faded. "You should find a way to use that without stoking Merlin's ego."

"I'd welcome the old man _himself_ being here if he were willing to fight the Order for us." A dark shape landed on Claire's shoulder with the sound of wings.

Jim felt a flare of panic. " _Raum_!"

"God, cool your jets, kid. I mean, threat still stands - gonna kill you, feast on your bones, etc., etc. But given the Order of Dawn set fire to my fucking _house_ , I'm willing to set aside our differences."

"Your - the Janus Order?"

"Yeah," Raum replied, ruffling his feathers. "Bastards must've known where it was for _ages_ , just waiting for an opportunity to make a move."

No, Jim thought. They were weakening any allies Trollmarket might have. A Polymorph would have been a valuable asset in this fight.

"Can _you_ do anything useful?"

"I can kick _your_ ass! But yeah, sure, I've got magic up to my tits over here." He paused, turning to look at Angor Rot. "Hey, kiddo. Don't think I've forgotten about _you_ , either. Morgana says-"

"She's going to return the favor one day," Angor Rot agreed. " _Herself_. So you don't frighten me."

"Eh. Your choice. So-"

"How did you get in here?"

Raum twisted around to peer at Toby. "There isn't a lock in existence I can't get through. So don't worry your pretty little head over it - I didn't leave the front door open."

" _Fuck_!" Jim jumped off the roof; yelps behind him suggested Toby had followed, dropping to the ground more lightly than Jim's rolling landing. And then Jim was running, Toby puffing along behind him.

"Jimbo, what's the problem? I think you freaked out Eli back there, and Claire-"

"There's a _back door_ to Trollmarket!"

"Back-" Toby's eyes widened. "The _Gyre_?"

The cavern shook; Jim missed a step and tumbled to the ground. Toby stumbled and just sort of sailed past Jim before landing on light feet, already turning to check on Jim.

"You okay?"

"What _was_ that?"

"If I had to guess, a proprietary blend of C4 and dwarkstone powder that has proven effective in breaching similar barriers to our own." Blinky tugged Jim to his feet, while Aaarrrgghh loomed behind him. There was a scream, and the sounds of distant gunfire echoing in the caves. "And so the battle is joined. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have work to do." He actually hopped forward and rolled, and Aaarrrgghh barreled after him.

"Come on." Jim grabbed Toby's free hand. "We've got to make sure-"

There was another explosion close to the spiral stair, throwing a cloud of smoke into the air. It lingered, though, and when Jim saw the flash of movement within-

"It's cover!" He screamed.

The smokescreen, though, gave the Order of Dawn their first foothold into Trollmarket, laying down gunfire to cover the rest of the company's approach. Jim saw people moving more slowly, weighed down by bulky packs and strange equipment. 

A troll in dented armor lunged through the hail of fire, armor deflecting most of the bullets. Jim saw something fly at them, and then a blinding flash. The troll screamed, an agonizing sound, and though they were still moving when the light faded, but more slowly.

"Flash-bombs," Toby whispered.

"Flash - but it's just…"

" _Ultraviolet_ flash-bombs. We've gotta go help them, Jim!"

"No, we've got to get to the Gyre!"

A dozen shapes soared from the spiral stair, and for a moment, Jim worried they were more bombs. But the silvery orbs landed, cracked, and released ten warriors apiece. One landed close to them, and then Jim had no time to worry about the Gyre.

One of the group wasn't carrying a rifle, or even a sidearm. He made a curt gesture with one hand and then made a slashing motion. Toby shoved Jim aside, recoiling from the force as he made himself light. A chasm opened in the ground beneath them, and gunfire tracked both of them. Toby landed, turned, and launched himself straight at the group. He hit the unarmed one full in the chest, landing right in the center of them as the guy went flying from the force of the blow.

He swung up his hammer and brought it down, a strike that caught one of their shoulders, crushing it and sending the soldier falling. Jim closed in as the others tried to bring their guns to bear on Toby, sliced easily into one's arm, cut through what was clearly another guy's bulletproof vest (jeez, hadn't these guys realized they'd be facing more swords than guns?), and slammed his knee into another's…

Protective cup.

" _That_ you prepare for, but you don't have decent armor?"

Jim stabbed another guy's shoulder before being forced to drop when another turned his gun on him. Toby, howling, swung through the group of them, shattering another's ribcage, taking out another leg, and then-

Transparent walls with glittering blue edges slammed around Toby; he bounced off one and dropped to the ground. He pounded at the wall before turning, pointing at Jim; Jim spun, blocked a woman who was swinging her rifle at him.

And then a fifteen-foot-tall figure made of televisions stacked together threw her off the plateau of Trollmarket into the crystalline abyss below. The subsequent hail of bullets didn't do much against the creature (was _that_ what Angor Rot had meant about golems?) as it knocked them aside, taking out another five before the sorcerer snapped at Toby, causing his prison to vanish, and made a series of complicated gestures before flicking his wrist at the golem. A dagger, apparently made of light, soared through the golem, spearing, as it fell, a little stone figurine. The golem shifted and fell into an inert pile of televisions; Jim used that as a distraction to impale another soldier, twisting around to find the rest of them giving him a wide berth, and the sorcerer twisting his hands again.

"Die!" Draal fell upon the sorcerer, but his sword, which Jim _knew_ was sharper than any other blade, shattered when it struck the sorcerer. "What?"

The sorcerer's hand dropped to his side; Jim closed and grabbed the arm as the man drew a short, curved blade. There was no point in pulling a knife that small on a troll unless-

The man twisted it around and stabbed at Jim; he hopped back as the blade just missed grazing his throat.

"Scales of the Dragon, gargoyle!" the sorcerer shouted. "Powerful magic, but well worth the cost." His hand flicked out, and the other twisted, and he caught the head of Toby's hammer as it swung at him. He turned, smirking. "Your magic is strange, but no match for the ancient wisdom of Thule."

"And what about Merlin?" Jim stepped in and stabbed at the sorcerer with Daylight.

Which shattered.

"That blade is meant for killing _trolls_ , Trollhunter, not men!"

Jim's panic lasted only a moment before he remembered the blade was forged from daylight anew every time he called it. But that moment was all the sorcerer needed, lunging forward with a hand blazing with ruby light.

He was so intent on Jim that he didn't have time to dodge when a bathtub - two hundred pounds of ceramic - crashed into him. A green troll with almost invisible horns - part Quagawump? - twirled away from Jim, purple skirt swirling around them as they hefted a five-foot-long foot locker that must have weighed over a hundred pounds and launched it toward a melee between Claire and two sorceresses, smashing one flat. The sorcerer Jim had been fighting was down for the count, if the blood pooled around him was any sign.

Jim turned back in the direction of the Gyre; with a moment's breathing room, he could check to make sure-

Something cold pressed against Jim's temple.

"Goodbye, Trollhunter."

\---

The guy was dressed like he was a soldier, a real one, the Order of Dawn insignia on the left side of his breast. Toby didn't know _how_ the guy had snuck up on them, but that thought was distant, muted, against the sight of Jim falling, the sound of the gunshot echoing over the sounds of battle.

Toby felt cold. He _remembered_ hearing about his parents, that they weren't coming home again. He'd felt empty.

Like he did now.

The man who'd killed-

Who'd shot-

Who'd-

He knelt next to Jim's - next to Jim, and suddenly Angor Rot was there, knocking the man aside, kneeling close to Jim's ear, whispering furiously, as if Jim was able to hear anything.

Toby couldn't be sure, but he thought silence was spreading from them, the battle pausing in the light of Jim's-

Of the _Trollhunter_ -

" _Jim_!"

Toby fell to his knees; Dr. Lake's scream broke through the paralysis, made it real.

That man had shot Jim _in the head_.

The chances of surviving that…

Jim shoved himself up, eyes wide, chest heaving.

No blood on his head.

"What kind of-"

Angor Rot swung a curved dagger at the man, sending him stumbling back. "The Thule Society spent years helping Georg the Dawnbringer hunt down some of the most powerful magical defenses a phylactery can hold. A Bezoar. A Mirror Stone. Dragon Blood. And _Dragon Scale_. No blade or spell could harm him so long as he wore it - _what do you think happened to those stones when I killed him_?"

Jim stood slowly, moving unsteadily (because he'd been _shot in the head_ , even if it didn't take). A shot rang out, and Jim stumbled as the bullet ricocheted off his chest. He turned toward the man who'd shot him in the head and called Daylight to hand. The man dodged around Angor Rot and swung a hunting knife at Jim.

The blade shattered against Jim's exposed neck.

"Fuck, _Karl_!" The soldier grabbed a nearby man's arm, a man in a loose tan shirt and skirt or tunic or something, blond, wiry, and _entirely unarmed_. Like even the sorcerers had daggers on them for close combat. The guy who'd shot Jim twisted his hand and both he and the guy in the tunic vanished, replaced by a pair of guys with guns, who proved to be the most unlucky bastards in the whole underground, as Jim, coming off the shock of having been shot twice and stabbed in the course of two minutes, sent them both down in a spray of blood.

And then a voice rang out through Trollmarket. "Whoever kills the Trollhunter can have the Amulet for themselves!"

Toby tracked the sound, catching sight of the man - who was clearly in _charge_ of this little outfit, to be able to auction off the Amulet of Daylight - and his companion, who was wither the stupidest man imaginable or a sorcerer so powerful he didn't rely on material implements anymore. They were near Blinky's library, where Eli had apparently been planning to brain two unsuspecting soldiers with a gaggletack (someone was going to need to get him a real weapon someday). The sorcerer, however, had been expecting trouble, and snapped his fingers as he twitched his other hand.

Toby reached out a hand and _slammed_ it down; the building across the street from Blinky's collapsed, debris throwing off the sorcerer's aim enough that the air _next to_ Eli imploded, rather than Eli's internal organs.

Toby growled and crouched, leapt, letting his gravity fall enough that a single jump carried him from Jim to Eli, and his hammer came down in a mighty swing-

And shattered in his grasp.

Karl, grey eyes glinting silver, gave Toby a wicked grin. "Going up against the Archmage of the Thule Society without a single scrap of magic on you? Bad idea, child."

Toby punched Karl in the nose.

Or.

Well, his hand turned at the last moment, or he would have.

Karl laughed and reached out a hand, palm up, and _clenched_. And then frowned, thoughtfully, at the hand. "Not _human_ , are we? Well, you know what they say - when all you've got is one stone, use it to kill _two birds_."

The street exploded in flame. Toby dove to the side while Karl hissed a word; the flames curled around him. A high-pitched scream that sounded neither like Eli nor like the guy in charge suggested rather than dodge the boss had swapped places with a slightly slower subordinate.

"Sorry!" Eli shouted. "Fuck, ow!"

Toby landed on a building further down the street. Eli was standing in the middle of the smoking street; he had, it seemed, happened onto one of Blinky's stores of dwarkstones.

"Karl!"

The Archmage vanished, and Toby, already turning toward the direction of the shout, saw him appear next to _whoever_ the guy in charge was, atop one of the higher buildings. Jim was cutting a path through a group of Order of Dawn soldiers who were protecting a woman who seemed to have a knack for ripping the tokens out of Angor Rot's golems.

The Archmage waved at the guy in charge, and a circle of soldiers and sorcerers formed around them. And then, eyes fixed on Jim, Karl's hands danced and twisted, more complex than his other motions. Toby grabbed for his hammer, realized it was broken, so was forced to watch as a cage of red light formed between Karl's hands, and in a flash-

The Amulet of Dawn was suspended within it. The man grabbed it, unfolded the amulet and shook it - glittering lights fell from it as he did.

And the Order of Dawn - leader or sergeant or whatever - screamed, his voice ringing clearly through the caverns, " **Take the shot**!"

For the second time in ten minutes, a crack rent the battlefield as someone shot Jim _in front of Toby_.

Except this time, someone else was on the ball, had anticipated this, because the shot found Jim on the ground, Aaarrrgghh crouched over him.

Skin greying, cracking, as the shot had found _a_ target, if not its intended one.

\---

" _ **I'll kill you**_!"

As if responding to Tobias' fury, the ceiling of the caverns cracked, shifted, and ten thousand pounds of rock collapsed on top of the perch from which the Order of Dawn's sniper had fired the fatal shot. And then the boy leapt at the Archmage and a man who by process of elimination _had_ to be the Grand Commandant, as if he stood a chance.

But Stricklander couldn't focus on Tobias when Jim was crouched, defenseless, next to Aaarrrgghh.

To the broken pieces of a man Stricklander knew Jim must have called friend.

Stricklander took a deep breath. He had little time to think, which was good luck he had practice doing so quickly.

He'd spent centuries as a saboteur and assassin. Ruining lives to destabilize human civilization - Sarajevo had been the crowning achievement that had earned him his position as Grand Commandant.

And for what? Plots within plots.

Here was a simple choice.

Simpler if Claire Nuñez weren't on the other side of the battlefield using the Skathe-Hrün to disarm Order of Dawn soldiers, taking very few actual limbs when closing portals on slow or unlucky people.

But _there_ was the changeling who'd replaced her brother.

Stricklander grabbed Enrique by his scruff, ignoring his struggle as he lifted the smaller changeling to eye level.

"I need your help," he said.

"What?" Enrique demanded. "You need a-"

"We have no time," Stricklander growled. "I need to get over there-" He pointed at Aaarrrgghh's corpse with a jerk of his hand, "immediately."

"And how do you expect to do that? Got Deya's Heart? Because otherwise, there's _no way_ you're getting through that untouched."

"You mean you don't _know_?" Stricklander would have laughed if he weren't incredibly pressed for time. "I wasn't aware you could _become_ a sorcerer's familiar and not know."

" _Familiar_?" Enrique demanded. "I'm not anyone's - _oh_."

"So you should be able to draw on her magic, on the magic of the _Skathe-Hrün_ , to get me to Mr. Lake _now_!"

Enrique - or whatever name Claire had _given_ him, scrambled up to Stricklander's shoulder. "Just, you know, I haven't - I've done this _once_ , and this isn't the best circumstances for a repeat-"

"Just focus your mind on the absolute _necessity_ of being over there."

Enrique squinted at Stricklander. "What are you _planning_?"

"Focus on your desire to figure _that_ out, and maybe you will."

Enrique nodded once, sharp, and then turned to stare at Jim and Aaarrrgghh. "Alright. Here goes."

Stricklander had been thrown through several windows during his life, which meant he had a point of comparison for what happened next, cold knives stabbing through him as the air turned stale and musty. There was a glimpse of darkness, and then the two of them tumbled onto the cobblestones next to Jim, who was still staring at Aaarrrgghh's body.

Stricklander rose to his feet, fumbling in his pockets for the treasures he'd taken from his office.

And froze.

The Archmage stood twenty feet away, the Amulet of Daylight in his hand. 

"James. I need you to stand up." Jim didn't move. "Jim. Get up."

"He - I can't…"

" _Get up, Young Atlas_. Going on despite our losses is _part of the burden you took up_!" That brought Jim up, still unsteady on his feet, and Stricklander knew he was going to have to _push_ , which he hated, given how much pressure teenagers were under.

But he'd shot Franz Ferdinand for much less noble reasons.

"This man took the Amulet from you; he exposed you so Aaarrrgghh had to protect you. _He is the reason Aaarrrgghh is dead_."

Jim's eyes focused on the Archmage, and his hand twitched. The Amulet of Daylight was in his hand, now. And then he was clad in armor made of sunlight, no invocation, no delay, just intention and fury as he leapt at the Archmage.

But Stricklander had no time to watch this; he could only hope Jim could survive while Stricklander...well, it wasn't work, but it was delicate nonetheless.

He kneeled next to Aaarrrgghh's body, praying to any god who'd listen as he drew out a vial sealed in wax. Inside, rainbow flames danced along a feather, a thing not quite material, hence why it was encased in glass.

He cracked the seal and pulled it away, and tilted the glass so the feather slid down until it hit the air, caught the subtle drafts, and held above Aaarrrgghh's body for a still moment.

And then the phoenix down succumbed to gravity and fell upon Aaarrrgghh's corpse.

He stared at the feather, breath held in anticipation.

This might have been a waste, the loss of a hundred and fifty years of searching. It'd been a few minutes - if Aaarrrgghh's spirit were weak, it might not have lingered that long. And if his spirit had departed this world, no force in heaven or earth could return it.

But then the corpse - the dead stone - caught fire, rainbow flames dancing along it, sealing cracks in flesh, restoring color to it.

Restoring _life_.

Stricklander laughed, a hysterical, bubbling sound; he'd worried about doing this, about wasting a treasure he'd hoarded for ages. But he'd always left it behind, looking toward the next crisis where he might need it.

And then...Jim had needed him.

The barrel of a gun pressed against the back of Stricklander's head. "Neat trick, _impure_. A shame it's going to waste."

Dying by gunshot to the head seemed merciful, because you wouldn't be aware of it. So the fact that the shot was ringing in Stricklander's ears for several moments, held in anticipation of the pain, of actually _dying_ , seemed unfair.

And then there was a heavy thud behind Stricklander. He turned, and saw the Grand Commandant of the Order of Dawn laying in a growing puddle of blood.

Stricklander looked up, but saw no sign of the sniper who'd had to be around if the Grand Commandant was _dead_. Only a battle becoming a rout.

In front of Stricklander, Aaarrrgghh groaned and shifted. "What…"

"Aaarrrgghh!" Jim broke from his battle with the Archmage, who vanished between one breath and the next, and ran to Aaarrrgghh's side. He fell to his knees, fumbling with Aaarrrgghh's hand. "I thought you were _dead_!"

"He was. For a good five minutes, I'd say."

Jim's wide-eyed expression made it clear that was the wrong thing to say. "He… _how_?"

"Phoenix down. One of the most difficult substances in the world to acquire. So consider this our one little miracle."

"That and whoever took _him_ out," Jim muttered, waving at the Grand Commandant.

\---

Steve stared into his coffee. He hadn't taken a drink in the forty-five minutes he'd been in the diner, but was shaking like he'd had three cups already.

He'd stuffed the electric gem and the one that Patience had used to spit acid in the back of his closet, and had taken to wearing the choker underneath turtlenecks.

Steve had spent an hour and a half out by the bridge over the canals last night, thinking.

He hated the Order of Dawn. But there was a whole complicated world out there - two dozen factions across a dozen species, and more types of creatures and monsters than Steve cared to think about.

Patience had accused Steve of not believing in anything. And he wasn't taking lessons about morality from Nazis, but Patience was half-right.

Steve cared. Steve _believed_ in something. The Order of Dawn had taken advantage of that, that Steve was scared and angry and wanted to take it out on something. That Steve didn't _want_ to be scared.

And he still wanted that. The world was full of monsters - humans and other creatures that hurt each other for no good reason. The Order of Dawn was supposed to protect humans, and the Eclipse Knights trolls.

When the Order of Dawn, in their jeeps and carrying UV lamps and grenades and guns, had shown up, Steve had made a decision.

He could turn invisible, could dodge bullets, and had months of firearms training.

And a bunch of monsters were going to try to murder a bunch of innocent creatures for no good reason.

He'd stolen a rifle off of one of the trucks and followed the Order of Dawn into Trollmarket.

And then…

He'd sort of faltered.

In the heat of the moment, he hadn't thought twice about shooting Patience. It was life or death and _TV_ had trained Steve how to react.

But from a high perch in Trollmarket, training his gun on the Order of Dawn, Steve couldn't pull the trigger. Not on the pair whose phylacteries covered their arms in steel, deflecting blows from Claire Nuñuz and a wiry troll that looked something like the dragon bird that had tried to kill Steve. Not on the nasty asshole who danced on the edge of battles with a Creeper's Sun-coated blade, killing a dozen trolls caught in larger battles. Not on Winston, who _Mr. Strickler_ had to beat away from Dr. Lake.

Not on Hans, Grand Commandant of the Order of Dawn, when he shot Jim Lake in the head.

Not on the Archmage of the Thule Society, but _that_ was practical. Trying to shoot the Archmage of the Thule Society was the quick way to Hell.

Domzalski's rampage after some sniper got in a lucky shot on Aarghaumont the Pitiless, who hadn't killed a single person _all fight_ , caused enough chaos Steve didn't have a clear shot at anyone.

Not until rainbow flames engulfed the corpse, transforming a broken statue into a living troll, and Steve saw the Commandant of the Order of Dawn step up behind Mr. Strickler, who had taught Steve that what the Order was doing was wrong, who could _raise the dead_.

Point. Breathe. Squeeze the trigger.

One shot, one kill.

He didn't feel guilty. He didn't feel sorry.

But he was shaking and he didn't know why. And his choices of people to talk to were - Pepperjack, who hated him, and Coach Lawrence, who wouldn't understand. Not unless Steve spilled out the whole fucking story about how he'd been lured in by some racist _cult_ and shot two people for attempting genocide.

"Man up, Palchuk," Steve muttered into his coffee, and downed it in one gulp. "You wanna save the world? You gotta do it on your _own_."

\---

Darci was watching the scene from about twenty yards away from the far end of the bridge. It was the best view without being there, and the cops, and FBI, and whoever the hell else were in the unmarked black vans, seemed a little on edge.

Which, you know, she got. She'd been the one to call them. One of the subsequent explosions had caved the weird sparkly entrance to Trollmarket back in again, which was probably lucky; no one needed the FBI meeting trolls for the first time. But yeah, the dozen or so Order of Dawn thugs who'd been watching the trucks and guns and ammunition were probably not having a good time. And if anyone got out of Trollmarket alive...she was betting they wouldn't either.

" _You_ look happy."

Darci turned as Mary sat next to her. She looked a little ruffled, but okay.

"What were _you_ doing?"

"Breaking and entering. Hacking. You know, the usual." She leaned forward, resting her head on her knees. "You know, I learned something today. Keeping all of your important files on one poorly-secured intranet is a bad idea."

Darci shot her an glance. "What did you _do_?"

"Kelly - Kellor - smart girl, decided we weren't losing this thing, even if we lost. Once their entire history and membership rolls hit the news, those bastards aren't going to have _anywhere_ to hide."

\---

Despite being the least injured person in Trollmarket, Jim had been forced to suffer his mother's ministrations before he'd been allowed to leave the makeshift hospital. She was removing bullets from the wounded, consulting with Vendel and Blinky how to treat sunstaining, and trying to deal with some of the weirder curses the Thule Society had dropped on trolls.

Angor Rot had dragged Toby off to explore nearby Gyre stations to find out where the Order of Dawn had come through; Jim got the impression Angor Rot was impressed with Toby, or explaining to him collapsing the cave one was in wasn't a great strategy.

And Jim was-

"Hey."

He nodded at Claire as she sat next to him. "You okay? I sort of lost track of a lot of stuff going on."

"Fine. I mean, I wasn't bulletproof for three-quarters of the fight, but I did okay."

"Good. Cool. Darci okay?"

Claire glared at him. "We're a quarter-mile underground, and I still haven't figured out how your troll friends got service down here." She sighed, took a deep breath. "Sorry. Anyway…"

"Thanks, by the way."

"Didn't do it for you. Or them. You know that."

"Still."

"On that note," Claire said, paused.

"What?"

She raised the Shadowstaff, fully extended. "We've got to go."

" _Now_?"

"The Order of Dawn is _shattered_. The Janus Order is recovering from whatever the assault on their office did. We've got a window where _nothing_ is going on, no way to put off getting my baby brother back."

"But my mom-"

"Relax, Jimbo," Claire said, grabbing his arm as she twisted the staff slowly in one hand. "We're going in and out. No detours, no delays. We'll be back by sundown." 

The air around them began to crackle, and when Jim looked up at Claire, her pupils were blown wide - no. Blackness was bleeding into the _whites_ of her eyes, like they were filling with shadows.

"Claire?"

" _I got this, Trollhunter_. Though you might feel a slight stinging sensation."

And then Claire punched a hole for them straight through to the Darklands.


	14. A New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout.

Queen Usurna, within the Deep Caverns that still burned strong with the light of creation, so full of life that none but Krubera could thrive here.

And even then, there was a cost to pay.

But so too were there benefits.

Gunmar had been wise to wish a Krubera to lead his armies. Even the commonest Krubera had the gift of prophecy. And a child of royal blood, though not Usurna’s own child…

She had known then that Aarghaumont would die if not under the command of Gunmar. If giving him over to the Gumm Gumms ensured other plans and prophecies would come to pass, all the better.

Gunmar had been furious when Aarghaumont defected, raged at Usurna to retrieve him. But she was not Gunmar’s servant, not like the impure creatures the Pale Lady had given him to secure his loyalty. And a Krubera would not take such a drastic action if he were not certain of the outcome.

Just as he had stood before Usurna and declared he would best thrive in Heartstone Trollmarket, where Usurna knew he was destined to die.

And yet here he was.

Alive. _Safe_.

It was vexing. Troubling. That something was interfering with her sight.

Because if she were wrong about something like _that_ -

No. She had to have faith.

That the Eternal Night would come, no matter _who_ interfered.

—-

Gunmar had ordered a celebration, and those of them who still possessed their wills were doing so (once, he had commanded those ruled by the Decimaar Blade to party, a sight so unnerving he had relented and never done so again). The destruction of the Order of Dawn (oh, there were survivors, certainly, but not enough to rebuild to their former strength. Not before Gunmar walked the Earth again) was a triumph, even if they had had little influence on it.

Dictatious was reading. He was _not_ enjoying himself. The goblin seekers, while excellent at identifying and securing a particular child, were not connoisseurs of literature, and had provided him an...uneven library to peruse in these dark times (ha).

But it was better than having to interact with the other Gumm Gumms. Despite the debates that had birthed the faction - about the steps one should be willing to take to preserve their species - the Gumm Gumms of the present were violent brutes. They _reveled_ in destruction and death. It made Dictatious wonder sometimes if there was something to the worries that resorting to consuming human flesh would corrupt them.

It changed little. He had sworn his fealty to Gunmar, so he had little ground to criticize them, only provide what guidance and strategy a superior intellect could.

It didn't mean he didn't hate every single _second_ he spent in this _hellhole_.

"Dictatious."

"What?" he snapped. It wasn't Gunmar, and he feared no other troll in this forsaken place, so he felt comfortable showing them no respect.

But there was no one at the entrance to his room, no one outside.

"Dictatious."

The voice came again, and Dictatious felt a chill. He was almost certain there had been no noise, but he _recalled_ hearing the voice. "Identify yourself."

"I should think it has not been so long that I would need an introduction, Dictatious Galadrigal. You worshipped me once, Dictatious."

The Pale Lady. Who had turned her favor to the Gumm Gumms once she found herself unwelcome in Camelot, though she had still commanded the respect of most trolls until the rise of the Eclipse Knights.

"We have never spoken, my lady."

"Has it been so long you have forgotten, Dictatious? Your father brought you to Camelot, to seek counsel from Merlin."

He had. But Dictatious had been a whelp. The Pale Lady would have no reason to remember that.

"My son thought you were the cleverest creature he had ever met - Gawain was quite put out by that." A laugh echoed in his mind - a fond chuckle. "So when I cast my gaze upon this realm and found _you_ , Dictatious, I knew to whom I must speak."

Pride swelled in Dictatious' breast; _he_ knew he was the most intelligent creature in the Darklands, but confirmation from none other than the _Pale Lady_ was a dream come true.

"And what...have you come to say?"

"I am sending you a gift, Dictatious, if you are clever enough to take it."

"What...sort of gift?"

"A path out of the Darklands."

"A…" Hope surged in Dictatious' breast, but practicality overwhelmed it after only a moment. "Why are you not telling this to Gunmar?"

"This path is not large enough for an army, which Gunmar will need when he returns to Earth. But I will need your _eyes_ , Dictatious Galadrigal, and your _mind_ , to prepare the world for _my arrival_."

"You - _your_ -"

"So pledge yourself to _me_ , Dictatious Galadrigal, and I will liberate you from this _hell_!"

And the Pale Lady was nothing if not canny and cunning, for she must have known there was _no other answer_ Dictatious could give than, " _Gladly_ , my lady."

—-

Karl stumbled forward, having misjudged the jump in his exhaustion and desperation, and the effort of dragging _two_ people with him. The defense the trolls had mounted was unexpected, but Hans and he had been in agreement it should have been winnable. A hundred men had lost their lives in fighting through the Quagawumps to access their Gyre station for a surprise strike that should have won them the battle.

_Damn_ Angor Rot!

Hundreds may have died in the assault, including an _unconscionable_ number of Thule Sorcerers, and the loss of Hans’ phylactery, a loss second only to the theft of Patience’s.

Another factor that could have _won_ them the battle. Given them unfettered access to the Gyre, and the means to wipe trollkind from the planet.

But all was not lost. Karl had survived. He could step up, rebuild the Order from the loss of so many of their leaders. He could restructure it, reorient its goals. They had expended so much effort in destroying trolls, and not enough in making use of the magical resources available to them. The world had been given over Man to use as he saw fit, and Karl intended to do that, wrench ever power and luxury he could from the inhuman creatures of this world.

He turned to his attendants, and received the greatest shock he had that day, to find one of them choking, bleeding out on the floor of his safe house.

Karl looked up and met the gaze of his other attendant. Eyes gleaming yellow.

“Impossible! We _tested_ you!”

“Of course, to see if this man was a changeling. But how do you determine if one of your people has been replaced by a _Polymorph_?”

The man’s - _troll’s_ \- hand snapped out and grabbed Karl’s right, snapping the bones with a twist. He lunged and twisted, and Karl, exhausted, didn’t have the concentration, much less the power, to cast anything as he was dragged into a chokehold.

“Don’t worry, Herr Archmage,” the changeling whispered. “Your death will not be in vain. In fact, I predict we will find _great use_ for you within the Janus Order.”

—-

“Documents secured by the New York Times, confirmed by other media outlets worldwide, describe a white supremacist militia that traces its roots back to World War II and the mystic ‘Thule Society’-“

“-ranking members of several world militaries, including Lt. Major Hans Bohls of the US army-“

“-racist views include a desire to exterminate ‘impure’ races, referred to in their literature as ‘trolls’-“

“-connected with militia exercises in Arcadia Oaks, California, where an earthquake may have claimed the lives of many members of its local chapter, which, like in other areas, disguised itself as a civil service organization-“

The bartender threw down the remote, apparently despairing of finding a station playing anything besides the leak of the names of members, goals, and plans of the Order of Dawn, which, even had there been enough survivors to rebuild, were now exposed. 

George Winston sighed into his scotch. There were places where the release of the Order of Dawn's member list would have left him a buffer while people figured out if what they did constituted 'hate crimes' or were 'against the law', but there were already rumblings about pulling them in as 'persons of interest'. 

“I wouldn't want to be one of these guys right now."

He jerked his head around to see a man sitting next to him. He was blond, broad-shouldered, dressed in camouflage fatigues, and watching George with clear, brown eyes. He smirked when he saw George had noticed him.

"I don't-"

"I mean, I give it until tomorrow for people on the internet starting to publicize the names, getting people fired, ostracized, destroying their whole lives." He raised a glass to George, smirked. "Wouldn't want to be one of them right now, if I could help it."

George took a careful breath. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

"Look...the Order of Dawn is done. Sticking with it, holding onto what was a losing philosophy when it was _introduced_ , is pointless. Now's the time to find a new cause, possibly one with better staying power than mindless genocide."

"This sounds like a sales pitch."

The other man shrugged. "It could be. It could be two guys talking in a bar about current events. It's your choice."

George looked around the bar; no one seemed to be paying them much attention. "So...what kind of pitch would this be?"

The man's smile widened. "Have you ever heard of the Sleeping God?"

—-

Once upon a time there was a creature called the Lord of Flowers. Wise and powerful, he gave breath and life to the stones of the Earth. When these stones, who called themselves trolls, came to him, he rejected their worship, their offers of fealty.

He commanded them only to live.

When he left them, taking with him the power that could sustain their people, that command inspired fierce debate among the trolls.

Was it right to prey upon other thinking beings to survive, in pursuit of his command? Death was necessary to sustain life, after all.

Or was it their duty to celebrate and protect the lives they _had_?

The time had long passed when the Gumm Gumms would heed the Lord of Flowers’ thoughts on the matter.

Which was just as well, because his current thoughts were:

‘Fuck’.

He was in...Sydney, he thought, having taken shelter in a park. While he hadn’t had time to read signs on his way in, the greenery suggested Australia, anyway.

The bastards had set _bunyips_ on him! He knew they had no standards or morals, but _bunyips_...

Lucky, the bunyips wouldn't follow him into a populated area, but the others…

Well, _they_ had been chasing him intermittently for close to two thousand years, so he doubted the rigors of urban Australia was going to put them off the search.

He hated running; every time he ran into them, he itched to fight. Five thousand years ago, he would have.

Five thousand years ago, he _could_ have. Every confrontation, every desperate flight drained him. And when all else was lost and he was forced to open a _tunnel_ to get away - well, that drained him quickly, reduced him to this sorry state in just under five hundred years.

If there was one bright spot, it was that they hadn’t found the Light of Creation. Well, hadn’t found it _either_. The moments he didn’t spend in flight from inexhaustible pursuit, he berated himself for having lost the most valuable artifact in the universe.

That, fleeing them as his warren burned, he’d lost control of the tunnels, lost the Light of Creation into a side passage, so now it was well and truly lost.

It was tempting to give up some days. To stop chasing down something he hadn’t found in two millennia, stop running from enemies that would never, ever stop.

But his mother hadn’t raised E. Aster Bunnymund to be a quitter.


End file.
